


The Eternal Supernova Theory

by Impossible_Impact



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Wolverine And The X-Men (Cartoon)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, And Protective Brother, Bulimia, Clint's the Fun Uncle, F/M, Gen, Justice, Laura Barton is Clint's Sister, Not Whatever the MCU Made Them, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wanda and Pietro are Mutants - Freeform, and a cup of tea, everybody needs a hug, protective Logan, yeah i know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 102,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impossible_Impact/pseuds/Impossible_Impact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A supernova is the event in which a star reaches its last stellar evolutionary stage, where it undergoes such a violent and catastrophic destruction, that its demise is marked by an incredible explosion that is seen in the night sky as an especially bright star. The brightness dims as the explosion eventually runs its course. </p><p>But what if the star never faded out? What if the star exploded, and continued to burn, such raw and unaltered power coursing through space without an end in sight? Continually living on the brink of destruction, but teetering just far enough away to play with an energy no one could ever dream of?</p><p>She knew she was in way too far over her head. But she was a superhero now. Personal safety was never really a concern.</p><p>And she was just having way too much fun.</p><p>************************</p><p>Jean Grey is back, and the X-Men are better than ever. But when Logan brings into their fold small-time healer and vigilante ‘New York City’s Angel,’ Lorelei Harlow, the X-Men are reminded how outnumbered and outgunned they are to take on the Professor’s next mission in preventing the future Charles Xavier communicates from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pleasure Is All Mine

She let her head lean comfortably against the head of her seat, her body groggily and comfortably pulsing from the steady plod of the train's journey over the tracks below her. She let her forehead lean against the cool, foggy window, New York's luscious, green vegetation contorting together in different pale, hues. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her body as she let a long, tired sigh escape from her lips as she heard the familiar clatter of glass instruments chime across the cart as the food pushcart slowly made its way up the aisle, occasionally pausing, a gentle murmur of voices ensuing, muffled from the roar of the great, hefty train.

To say she was a nervous was so great an understatement, it was almost a lie. If the incessant tapping of her leather boots against the exhausted, worn floor beneath her wasn't convincing enough, it was her traveling mind that was a sure sign she was mighty too worried about the journey ahead. It was a piteous escape tactic at that. Her mind was delving so deep within its own thoughts, she didn't even realize her left index finger had traveled from its trembling stance in her lap to the icy, cloudy window beside her. Her hazy attention didn't notice her finger had begun to dance across it, swiping and bending in different directions, her movements those of a mind possessed. And even when the approaching pushcart ringed and tinged beside her, a hoarse, scratchy voice asking her if she wanted anything, she continued to sit, dazed, as her finger daintily contorted lines and dots all across the window. The scraggily, hunched waiter gave a small look of annoyance before pushing on past to the family of 5 seated behind her. And she smiled when she finally discovered what her finger was drawing, the muscle memory of those images so engrossed in her hands, it was no surprise to the 17 year old that, as a coping mechanism, her mind had reverted back to the most simplest and purest of objects, the lives of light she knew would never leave her or whom she could never hurt; the stars.

Sketched with the talent of genius at work, tiny, intricate constellations beautifully decorated the window, the green land behind it shining through the small lines. Each one was proportionally spaced from the other, none out of order or misplaced. And the young girl's small smile grew even bigger as she named each one off, one by one, almost giggling at her ability to name all of the stars involved. She let out a content sigh and turned her stare back to the stained leather seat in front of her.

Was she going to be ok?

Her passion to help others may have brought her into the deepest of predicaments…but was it really a "predicament?" If he was any indication of the rest of them, she wasn't all that worried about getting along with them. But that's what she was afraid of…getting along with them; getting too close. But she reprimanded herself, arguing that it would be different this time…that she would be prepared this time. She knew what she was doing and she was ready if it was ever to happen again. She deserved this. 5 years without anyone. 5 years pushing everything away. She deserved friends, she deserved a team.

Her head perked up at the sound of a warbling voice as it crackled through the overhead speakers, catching only the words "North Salem" before the intercom faded as waves of bustling surrounded her. She watched as adults grabbed their bags and suitcases from the overhead shelving and children bounced excitedly in their seats, furiously wiping away the fog at the window, trying to pear harder at the approaching train station.

She particularly watched a small girl beside her, curly black pigtails bouncing energetically as she danced her small doll through the air, exclaiming North Salem several times with her pure, sugary voice. But her yelps immediately stopped when the doll tumbled out of her hands and was shoved across the aisle by the feet of a hurried bunch of finely dressed men. The doll landed by her feet. She gently picked it up and walked back over to the small girl, who had her large, brown eyes gleaming up at the older girl. The 17 year old ran a delicate hand across the doll's hair before getting down on one knee and it handing back to the little one before her.

"Here you go," she said, watching as the small girl cautiously took it back from her.

"T-thank you," she replied, her voice smaller.

She carefully studied the girl, watching the familiar, mystical hues of colors dancing from the little girl's skin. Fierce purple's bounced, along with splashes of green and pink. But what caught the older girl's attention were the small spikes of blackish-red that sprouted like vines across the girl's hand that still clutched the doll. The older girl gave a small, sympathetic smile to big brown eyes before her.

She reached out and squeezed her small hand. "Good luck. And remember, that you'll always be special," she whispered, loud enough for the little girl to hear her over the bustling crowd of anxious passengers, but quiet enough so that the little girl's wary mother beside her could not hear. And with that, the older girl collected herself up and disappeared into the loud crowd.

* * *

 

He expertly watched the throngs of passengers exiting quickly out of the train doors, nimbly scanning the crowds for a face. The raven-haired man, no doubt, looked horribly out of place. Whether it was due to his stationary stand, along with a white-haired, African American female beside him, amongst the floods of movement around him, or simply the sheer size of him and his sharply sculpted muscles, he stuck out.

"I don't see her, Logan," the woman said from beside him, growing worried as the crowds slowly decreased in size, the train nearly close to emptying.

"Don't worry, Ororo. She's here. I can smell her," he reassured.

The woman turned to look up at him, with a small, curious smile on her face.

"You never explained how you met her, Logan," she stated.

It was Logan's turn to smile as he replayed the night over again in his head.

_He ran across the wet, slippery pavement, his feet expertly dashing across the already forming puddles. The beating rain made his tight suit cling to his large body, rippled and edged masterfully with muscles earned from heavy training and the glorious heat of battle, an eerie darkness clinging to them as if they were shadows themselves. His steady breathing produced small puffs of white fog that clung to the damp air with a vengeance. His nerves danced with excitement, as he peered behind him to watch as they drew nearer. He could hear the loud, monotonous footsteps of his pursuers, already multiplying as his enhanced hearing picked up the screech of another vehicle that had joined in on the chase. He grinned mischievously as the click of the triggers of their weapons echoed across the almost deserted neighborhood._

_He wasn't afraid. To say he had gone out that night looking for a reason to run, a reason to feel the excruciating, heated pain of his metallic claws sheath forth from his dense knuckles was probably not all that wrong. On a stormy night like tonight, no one would be out on the streets. No mutants at least. That means he had their full and undivided attention. Perfect. And the fact that they had come extra prepared that night, equipped with a holding cell and everything, its extra weight on the vehicle's wheels chiming in his ear, made him all the more cockier._

_The X-Men leader even gave his chasers a moment to catch up, standing idly in the street, smirking confidently as the uniformed men circled him on all sides, their hauntingly black glasses staring the mutant down. All weapons were trained simultaneously on the wanted convict, as said offender continue to smirk with raw arrogance._

_"Took you guys long enough," Wolverine called out to them smugly, brashly rolling and popping his shoulder sockets. "Kelly's really pickin' the best and the brightest for his 'Mardy' squads, isn't he," watching, amused, as one of the soldiers actually began to shake, the former Weapon-X smiling at the smell of fear that reeked from the rookie's body._

_"Surrender now and we won't hurt you!" one called out from the crowd of MRD soldiers, his voice almost muffled by the pouring rain, whose intensity had only increased._

_"Funny thing, Bub," Wolverine said, smiling at the satisfying sound of his claws slicing through his skin and embracing the fresh, damp air of the rainy night, "I was going to tell you the same thing."_

_And without a moment's hesitation, the beastly mutant was off, jumping first for the rookie, quickly knocking him out with a roundhouse kick. Grabbing the shoulders of the now unconscious lackey, he swung the soldier in a circle, brutally clobbering the soldier's heavy boots into any surrounding MRD recruits. Animal instinct kicked in as he quickly completed a back flip, narrowly dodging a series of blasts that had erupted from a nearby weapon. He swiftly fist punched a soldier feet from where he landed, grinning as their nose broke with a clean crack beneath his fingers. He grabbed the weapon from his hand and began shouting at the fast approaching group of fighters, his mouth cocked in a supercilious smile._

_He was having a blast._

_Though the men were heavily protected, the force from the blasts of Wolverine's newly acquired gun alone knocked most of them off of their feet, leaving the haughty Logan with a few more stragglers, before they would be calling in aerial reinforcements._

_A piece of cake._

_The X-Men leader was already imagining his proud walk back home to the mansion and the glass of ice, cold beer when his eyes widened in confusion at a sudden and devastatingly sharp pain that had erupted right in the center of his chest. He quickly turned his attention to find a soldier pointing a gun straight at him, the barrel still relishing in the smoke of its bullet's exit._

_"So that's how it's going to be. You're going to be sorry –" But Wolverine's speech was cut off abruptly as his world suddenly shifted out of focus, the atmosphere around him tipping like an uneven see-saw and the edges of his vision clouding over with bright lights._

_He weakly turned down to look at where the blast had hit him, expecting to see an already healing scorch mark across his rib cage. But he was caught off-guard to find a small vile of some kind, it's needle surprisingly able to make it through his infamously dense skin. He roughly pulled the contraption out, but looked distraught at the empty vile; the damage had already been done. But what kind of damage? The cocky leader was only aware of a few type of sedation needles the MRD used, none of them able to pierce his skin deep enough to make it into his blood vessels. So what was this?_

_He glanced back up to find his vision had become even fuzzier, the MRD vehicles and the buildings behind them swirling together like a finger painting. He cringed as his weak legs suddenly crumpled, forcing the animalistic mutant down on his hands and knees. He could vaguely hear the footsteps of approaching Mardies, their numbers slowly but steadily increasing._

_He was screwed._

_Suddenly, a flash of pure, golden light danced across his line of vision, causing an immediate shift in colors, the leader assuming it had just taken out the line of soldiers that had already gathered in front of him. There came a series of panicked yells and screams, as the bright light same into his vision a few more times before stopping just before him. And that's when his whole world finally blackened out, his weak body collapsing to the cool ground before him, his fevered body relishing in the puddles that had already started to form around him._

"If it wasn't for her, I'd probably be dead right now," he stated, his eyes still scanning the crowds.

"Has Hank found out what you were injected with?" the weather witch asked.

"He says it's some kind of new "cure" they've were testing on months ago. But the product was banded due to the continual negative results. He's still trying to figure out how it got back out on the MRD's shelves," he explained. His ears suddenly perked up at a set of familiar foot fall.

He looked up, surprised to find most of the train station had emptied out, to find a recognizable set of pale eyes, set atop a pair of gently freckled cheeks.

The small teenager had long, blonde hair that bounced in curled waves. Logan chuckled at her new wardrobe, having given her money for the motel, a train ticket, and some cash for some new clothes. She had exchanged her ratty Red Sox's hoodie and holey camo pants for a white blouse that puffed at the sleeves, a small, navy pleated a-line skirt, black tights and small, ankle length boots.

The only luggage she carried was a brown leather jacket in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

She smiled when her eyes finally found his. They closed the distance between each other.

"Hey, Munchkin," he greeted, smiling when the girl waved off his offered hand and came in for a hug. He chuckled and patted her on the shoulder and laid the other on her head.

"Safe trip?"

"Yeah, it was ok. And don't you dare call me Munchkin again," she said, pulling away from him with a playful scowl on her face. Logan chuckled.

"Lorelei, I'd like you to meet Ororo Monroe."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Lorelei," Storm greeted, shaking the small girl's hand.

"The pleasure's all mine," she answered.

* * *

 

"Where is everybody, anyway? I thought they'd all be here to greet her," the thin, brown haired girl asked, peering around the large hall, the morning sun just catching the glittering crystals of the overhead chandelier, towering high on the lofty ceiling above the grand staircase, leading to the second floor of the institute.

She habitually folded her arms across her chest and turned to the blonde-haired boy beside her, who had kept his eyes out the window, peeled for any signs of the black vehicle.

"Well, Scott and Jean are out by the water and truthfully I don't want to know what they're doing. Forge is working on the jet, Hank's down in the computer room still looking at the juice he found in Logan, Tildie's watching cartoons and Kurt is probably off somewhere moping like a big baby," he answered, playfully blowing his frigid breath against the window pane, waiting for it to fog over before smearing his hand across it and repeating the process.

"Come on, Bobby, you can't blame him for wanting some alone time. Take it easy on him," she said, resting her back against the window to look at the ice mutant beside her.

"Hey, he went and fell head over tail for Magneto's daughter and we all warned him about what he was getting himself into," he said, shrugging.

"Bobby, she almost killed him at their last week's attack on Senator Kelly! None of us saw that coming," she reprimanded him.

"Are you kidding me!? I totally called that scenario! Either that, or she'd have daddy-dearest cook him up on a homemade frying pan and feed him to his ugly lackeys," Bobby joked, earning him a hard backhand to the head.

"Hey!? Why yah hitting me? We were all thinking it," he grumbled, rubbing his sore head as the energetic young woman beside him continued to glare.

"I swear with your mouth, Kurt's mood swings, Rogue's on-again off-again status on the team, Scott and Jean's "I love you I hate you" relationship, Tildie's destructive nightmares and Logan's temper, I can't imagine anyone who would want to stay here! Heck, I don't even know why we're still here!" she exclaimed, turning to watch with her friend as the black SUV pulled up to the front door of the mansion, watching as their new teammate stepped out of the back seat and surveyed the property.

 

* * *

 

 

He stepped out of the medical laboratory, closing the door quietly behind him as to not disturb the sleeping guest behind him. He brought his large, blue-furred hand up to his face, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses further up his nose, as he surveyed the medical charts and scans on the clipboard in front of him. He almost jumped at the sight of the prescience of most of his team members, seated around the large computer room table, save for Bobby, Kitty, Kurt and Tildie, who were no doubt crouched low in a air shaft or vent of some kind, trying to listen in on the exclusive conversation.

"Everything go ok, Hank?" Logan asked, who, unlike the others, had chosen to stand off to the side, his hands casually clasped in his pockets.

The blue mutant ran a hand through his equally colored locks and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Due to her absence in modern-day society, I have updated her with all of the precautionary vaccinations and I performed a mandatory physical of sorts," he explained, walking over to the large, overhead computer and bringing up his patient's charts on the screen.

"How long has she been out on the streets?" Jean asked, gently laying her chin on her clasped hands.

"From her lack of body weight and muscle mass, I estimate about 4 years, give or take," the physician explained.

"Does she not have family?" Ororo asked, looking worriedly up from the table to Beast.

"She did not seem willing to disclose that information," he explained.

"Did you get anything from her mind?" a tall brunette asked, turning to the red-head telepath beside him.

"No. Her mind is expertly locked. A telepath must've taught her how to shut others out of her mind, and they taught her well," Jean explained.

"So you're telling me we have a strange kid who's been out on the streets for years suddenly walking around the mansion with the keys!?" the brunette exclaimed, his red-tinted glasses noticeably glowing with rage.

"She saved my life, Summers, and she's got nowhere else to go," Logan intervened, glaring at Cyclops, daring the young man to challenge his decision.

"No offense, Logan, but you said the same thing about Rogue and she's been putting us through the ringer with her little Brotherhood escapades. What is up with you and abandoned kids, anyway?" he asked, getting up from his seat to address the X-Men leader.

Wolverine let out a feral growl and closed the distance, inches from Scott's face.

"In case you haven't forgotten, Summers, you were an abandoned kid when Charles picked you up. We all were. That's what most of this institute consists of," the former Weapon-X growled.

"What did you learn about her powers, Hank?" Ororo asked, trying desperately to cool the burning rage that had ignited between the two rivals, Jean pulling her partner down back into his seat, frowning at him.

Hank pulled up a set of different charts and turned back to his team. "It appears that Lorelei possesses a series of mutant alterations. She does, no doubt, possess a form of healing capability, but due to her numerous superficial wounds, I have come to the conclusion that she is limited to healing others only. She did fall asleep though, she was terribly exhausted, so I still haven't gathered all the data I need to fully assess her abilities. However, while I was running a full body scan, I came across this interesting discovering," he explained, enlarging a particular photo from the bottom left hand corner of the screen.

On the screen was a rough outline of the young mutant's body and skeletal form. However, right in the middle of her chest, was a ball of burning, white light.

"What…is that?" Jean asked, the entire team staring wide-eyed at the scan.

"It appears that her heart, in itself, is a form of light energy source. But a powerful one at that. The radiation and electromagnetic readings I gathered from it supersedes that of any synthetic form of energy. I had to access NASA's data files to finally find something that mirrored these readings," the scientist explained.

"And? Whad yah find?" Logan asked.

"It was the Sun. The thermal, radiant and electromagnetic readings from her heart perfectly match those of the Sun and numerous other stars in our galaxy. I still can't comprehend how her body is in any way stable at the moment. It's astonishing to see that her heart appears to be freely circulating small pieces of this energy throughout her body, along with oxygenated blood, as if her very being depends on it," Hank explained.

"Incredible," Jean gasped.

"So what kind of power are we talking about here? Level 2? 3?" Scott asked, his voice still on edge as he sneaked glares over to the still secluded leader.

"Until she wakes up, I have no way of predicting what exactly this means. She may not have any powers concerning this…adaptation and then again, she may have a whole other series of abilities," the scientist explained.

"When she was attacking the Mardie's the other night, she was glowing. Could that be from her heart?" Logan asked.

"It is a possibility," Hank replied.

"Great. So we're caging a possible ticking time bomb that, for we all know, could be Senator Kelly or even Magneto's head honcho? You really out-did yourself this time, Logan," Scott grumbled.

"You know what, Summers, the door is always open. If you don't like it, no one's stopping you," the X-Men leader grumbled back. Cyclops stood up from his seat and stormed out of the control room, forcefully slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

She released a relaxed sigh, and let her senses fall back into place as she slowly shook off sleep from her worn out body.

She felt so embarrassed.

Mr. McCoy had been looking over her scans, explaining something to her, for which subject she couldn't remember, and she must've completely hit the hay.

She just felt so tired. She had never felt so drained. Though it was probably largely due to the numerous vaccinations and scans she had to undergo, it was still overwhelming for her to feel so utterly tired, that she couldn't stay awake long enough to find somewhere else other than a medical examination table for a bed.

She was about to sit up when, immediately, her instincts began to flare at the change in atmosphere.

Expecting to feel the table's cold, hard surface below her, she began to worry when she felt the surface give underneath her weight. She suddenly became aware of the feeling of cloth surrounding her, and something along the lines of a cushion stationed beneath her head. The smell of disinfectant and latex was now replaced the sweet smell of lilacs and she became aware of a small breeze that poked ruthlessly at her ears and nose.

She began to panic. She was clearly no longer in the X-Men's makeshift emergency room.

So where was she?

What did they do to her? She had heard many stories and tales of the infamous X-Men, but never regarding taking mutants hostage or worse. Though the tall man with the red sun glasses seemed rather intimidating when she was first escorted into the medical facility, she had never expected trouble from the X-Men.

How could she have been so stupid as to let her guard down? Had she really bought their false sense of security? How could she have been so easily blind sighted? More importantly, how was she going to get out of this mess, when she finally discovered what kind of mess she was in?

She quickly bolted upright in bed, her eyes ablaze with panic as she quickly scanned the area, her hands glowing with a bright, golden light, her heart racing. However, her tense nerves quickly began to relax as she found her surroundings replaced with those of a bedroom.

She was laying on a large, plush bed, equipped with large, down comforters and pillows, in between large, intricately decorated cherry head and foot boards.

Off to her left was a large dresser made of the same cherry wood, pushed against the perpendicular wall, along with a small side table to her right. In front of her, the room expanded for at least 50 feet. Beside the dresser was a large window behind a large, window seat made once again of cherry, decorated with ivory and baby blue pillows.

Next to the window seat were two, large storm doors that led out to what appeared to be a small, marble balcony, its railing supported by small, evenly spaced marble pillars. The doors were now open, letting the gently, evening breeze dance with thin, ivory curtains.

On the wall opposite her bed was a large fire place, with a beautiful, gray stone base and jamb and numerous empty frames that scattered the mantel shelf. In front of the fire place was, as expected, an ivory shag rug underneath two sandy colored bean bag chairs on each side. And against the wall to the right of her, just next to her door, was a cherry vanity table, with a single vase of fake, white lilies in front of a large, three sided mirror.

She quickly closed her agape mouth and did another once-over the room again. It was gorgeous. And at the sight of her clothes gently hung in the open-door dresser, and her leather jacket sitting on the small stool by the vanity almost made her cry; this was her room. This mansion sized room, fit for the Queen, was all for her. It almost made all of the run-down motels, apartments, factory storage rooms and occasional restaurant basements all worth it. She not only had a room, but a home and a street address to call her own. It was almost too good to be true.

She sighed contently, stretching out her tired limbs.

She should've never doubted them.

If these people were anything like Logan, the X-Men were very good people. She reprimanded herself for assuming that everything, including the just X-Men teamed, had mutated along with the changing times, no pun intended.

The whole world was spiraling out of control.

Whether mutants were perceived as a threat, a disease, or simply the enemy, everyone believed they were better off dead. With the MRD's becoming more ruthless every day, Congress cracking down on mutant registration and restriction laws and groups like the Brotherhood and Magneto not helping their cause in the least bit, there was no hope left for them.

She slowly gathered herself out of bed, pulling down her grey, scrunched and crumpled sweat pants and shirt and made her way over to the balcony, her feet shivering at the feeling of the cool marble beneath her toes. She stared in awe at the scenery before her. Directly below her balcony was a large, stone patio below a wooden pergola, covered in rose vines. The green yard stretched out for at least 2 acres before suddenly drooping way to beautiful cliffs, right before a small stretch of beach, all over-looking a vast body of water.

The X-Men didn't play around.

As she was inhaling the sweet, ocean breeze and smiling at her score of a beautiful view, she couldn't help but notice a small burst of wind, irregular to the gentle draft around her. She also couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching her. Of course, being in an institute with a number of other mutants was going to leave her very few moments of private time. But this one felt close.

"Zih fiew is vonderful, yah? Vee don't have anysink like zis in Bavaria."

The small girl let out an ear-piercing scream, stumbling in surprise and falling, hard on her butt. She groaned and opened her wide eyes at another small puff of wind, spotting the source, or rather the mutant, before her.

"My apologeez. I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, offering his hands to the fallen girl.

She stared up at the figure.

He, like Hank, was blue but certainly not as hairy as the scientist. The boy before her was blue-skinned. He had raven hair that parted in the middle, both parts flopping to each side, though not far enough to cover his extremely pointy ears. His eyes were a solid, golden yellow, each eye circled by a darker shade of blue. As she studied his skin tight, red and navy suit, she suddenly discovered his twitching, blue tail, ending in the shape of an arrow head.

She looked once again up to his small smile, his lips almost hiding the two, small fangs on each side of his mouth. She gave another once-over his white-gloved, three-fingered hands and grabbed them. With incredible ease, he lifted her off the ground, running a hand through his hair as she dusted her butt off.

"Sorry I startlet you. I didn't vant to shcare you vith my appearance, vut I endet up doink anyvay," he said, crest-fallen already seeming to shrink back to the shadows, turning away.

"What's wrong with your appearance?" she asked, looking skeptically at the blue mutant. He turned to her with a confused smile in his face.

"Vell, it's not everf day you see a big blue elf runnink aroun town," he replied, pulling at the pointy ends of his ears.

"Well, than that just makes you all the more special," she replied with a small smile, extending her hand out to him.

"I'm Lorelei, by the way."

The young mutant stared down, astonished, at the hand before him. Never, in his whole life, had he ever met someone so…not surprised by him.

Never had first introductions gone so smoothly.

There was only one other person that seemed to look at him as you would anyone else, and that was Professor Xavier.

Even the rest of his teammates were cautious around the young mutant when he first arrived at the institute.

Kitty had literally screamed in horror, Bobby had wet his pants, believing the young Kurt was a demon, Jean had given him a shaky "hello" wave before leaving the room, Logan seemed disgusted and Scott had given him a hesitated, weak hand shake. To someone like Logan, for example, Cyclops would've firmly grasped their hand and shook, a trait the mutant had explained he had learned from his father. Of course, Kurt would want to be there if there ever came a day when Scott and Logan would actually shake hands.

But this girl standing before him held nothing of those emotions in her eyes. They were almost expectant, and a little confused when he didn't immediately shake.

He hesitantly placed his hand into her small fingers and shook her hand, smiling.

"Kurt. Kurt Vagner. But my mutant name eez Nightcrawler," he replied.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Kurt," she said.

"The pleasure eez all mine, Fräulein," he replied.

 


	2. Readjusting

The cool, sparkling air of the October night blanketed the room in a refreshing hue of mystical, midnight blue, scratched with shadows that crawled about the room. The pale, glowing moon governed the bedroom, its light slipping through the open storm dorms, the lacey curtains dancing with the magical whispers of dark. But the moon and its accompaniment council of stars could not protect the sleeping girl from the evils that waltzed across the night, playing freely amongst the twilight dusk, whispering in the ears of those who dwelt among the realm of dreams. The lights in the sky could do nothing but watch silently as the young girl was whisked up by the demons of the nightfall in a treacherous nightmare.

At first, all that could be heard were small moans, her body stiff, her hands harshly clasping the surrounding blankets as if her life depended on it. Suddenly, her body then shifted with an un-natural force, letting out a small yelp of fear as the nightmare grew increasingly dangerous.

"No…no, no, no, no, no," she feverishly mumbled, her pillowcase now damp with wet tears.

"NO!" she screamed, jerking once more, her blankets now a heap on the floor. The delicate silence of the night had now shattered, the sharp glass of the air now skipping horrifically at her cries that now had carried more sound than before.

"No…no…I didn't do it," she groaned, her eyes scrunched in pure terror.

"KEVIN!" she screamed, her voice rattling the cold night air. Her door suddenly burst open, a dark figure quickly making its way to her bed, where it firmly, but gently, clasped her shoulders and gave her a small shake.

"Hey, Munchkin, it's ok," it whispered, its voice still scratchy and numb with sleep. But the young girl continued to shift in her sleep.

"KEVIN, NO! PLEASE, NO!" she screamed. The beings eyes narrowed firmly.

"Lorelei, wake up," it commanded, its voice louder than before. And as if responding directly to his call, the young girl's eyes awakened in fear, her body sitting immediately upright.

"Sshhh, it's ok. You're safe," he comforted. The young girl's wide eyes finally settled down, her heavy breathing slowly settling out as she turned to the prescience beside her.

"Logan," she whispered, as if trying to convince herself that the life before her was real, and not one created by the evil spirits of the night.

"You ok? You sounded like you were being murdered," he explained, leaning down and picking the soft, cotton blankets off the ground and laying them over the girl, whom he had noticed was still madly trembling. It took her a few moments to finally gain enough strength to respond.

"Um, yeah…I'm fine," she said, still trying to gain her bearings.

The X-men leader before her gave a small smirk.

"Was I in it?" he asked.

She returned with a small smile, one the highly-perceptive mutant in front of her could see completely through.

"No, not this one," she replied. "Just worried about trying out the danger room tomorrow."

The shirtless man arched an eyebrow, knowing the young mutant was clearly hiding something, or in reference to the "Kevin" name she had been calling earlier, someone.

He gave her a small pat on the shoulder before getting up. "You'll be fine, Lorelei. Just get some rest," he said, already heading towards the door.

"Hey, Logan?" she called out quietly to him. He turned back to her.

"Thank you," she said. He gave her a small nod before slipping out her door and back out into the pitch black hallway.

The young girl let out a soft sigh before gently laying her still shaking body back down onto the mattress. She looked up at her bare ceiling, already, silently, rhyming through the constellations in her head, never again closing her eyes that night.

 

* * *

 

"You're eating popcorn at 9 o'clock in the morning!?" the brunette scoffed, turning to the obnoxious chewer beside her.

"What?" he asked, innocently, "I came prepared. This is going to be epic," he replied, offering the bowl of warm-buttery popcorn to the phase-shifter.

"Bobby, for all you know, she may just be a healer," Kitty said, cringing as the ice mutant stuffed another handful of snack into his mouth, munching loudly.

"Or maybe not," Nightcrawler commented, swinging down by his tail down from his perch on an overhead pipe.

"Of course, we'd already know if Logan here would just ask the kid to release her mind barriers and let Jean find out," a voice scoffed from beside Iceman, red shades glinting beneath the overhead, florescent lights. He grunted as a hard, muscled body bumped past him, joining Beast and Forge by the main, central control system.

"No one's stopping you from asking her yourself, Summers," Wolverine challenged, Cyclops letting out a noticeable growl before the red-headed telepath beside him laid a comforting yet firm hand in his shoulder, gently warning the young man to back off of the possible argument trigger.

"I think this is a good idea. We'll get a chance to see her powers in action for ourselves without having me pry through her mind," Jean replied, watching cautiously to see if her boyfriend would back away from ever-persistent urge to call the X-Men leader out and challenge his commands.

"The new and improved Danger Room is all set. I've programmed the computer to start her off on a "level 1" set of challenges. From there, the computer will evolve its weapon systems and obstacles according to her fighting techniques and abilities," a young man explained, looking at the former Weapon-X as he gave a once over the newly built control panel, the whole system itself destroyed from a mishap in a previous training session with the team, Kitty having accidently phased through the machinery after being thrown from an overhead blaster.

"Because the software is still new, I had Forge install an emergency override program to allow us to manually shut down the room if things get too out of hand," Hank explained, lowering his glasses as he peered up at his leader beside him.

"Which I don't think we'll need because I've already run through the software at least 3 times and its running at peak efficiency," the tech-savvy mutant commented, Logan replying with an amused smirk, able to name at least 5 instances when the young genius had repeated that same phrase minutes before his experimental technology had completely backfired. The X-Men leader did not doubt his fellow teammate's astounding capabilities, but he knew giving the mechanic simply 24 hours to bring the Danger Room up to par from the state it was in was asking a lot. And the fact that the training room looked perfect, a little too perfect, had Wolverine deeply worried.

"And if Lorelei is not gifted with offensive powers, she'll still be able to overcome these tests?" Ororo asked.

"The program will start her off on simple evading strategies. If it senses she can't physically attack it, the system will keep it toned down," Forge explained.

Logan turned back down to the small mutant girl from his perch in the overhead control center. She nervously fiddled with her skirt as she snuck wary glances at the surrounding, large metallic walls.

"You ready, kid?" Logan asked, bending down to the microphone, sensing the team instinctively crowd around the large window.

Lorelei gave a firm nod before closing her eyes. The team watched wide-eyed as the small mutant was suddenly covered in a blinding white light, immediately disappearing to reveal her in a dark, navy one piece with an equally-colored cape, that reached to her ankles, and a mask that covered most of her face. Her hair had been pulled and clipped up.

Bobby laid a cocky arm over Kitty's shoulder. "Only a healer, huh?" he brashly questioned. The team's interest was peaked even higher when the outer edges of Lorelei's body was gently covered in a thin layer of the same bright light.

"Ready," she responded, her voice traveling through the communication system in the control center.

"Initiating Level 1 of Training Session 1," Forge announced, pressing a large button in front of him. The team held their breath as they watched the young 17-year old below.

Lorelei whipped her head around at the sound of metal shifting. She watched as two panels from the opposite wall were pushed aside, making room for a large remote control blaster, its barrels sizzling with static energy. Her eyes narrowed on the activated weapon. With an ear-shattering detonation, the blaster was fired, a bright green flare flying straight for the small mutant. With equally incredible speed, Lorelei back flipped out of the way, landing nimbly on her feet. And just as her toes made contact with the floor, the gun was once again activated, two more flares were soaring through the air. Lorelei quickly extended her arm, a circular, glowing shield appearing 4 feet from her. The flares crashed into the golden shield, dissipating in an explosion of smoke. Without another moment's hesitation, Lorelei lifted out her arms to the blaster, which was still slowly activating for another round of shots, and created a large stream of energy igniting in front of her fingers and traveling to the unguarded blaster, demolishing it to a mere heap of warped metal on the ground.

Suddenly, everything paused, Lorelei looking around expectantly for something else.

"Analyzing collected data. Reprogramming weapon systems," a computer voice responded, her voice echoing across the cold, empty room.

"That doesn't sound good," Lorelei mumbled to herself.

"System's reprogrammed for Level 8 Omega mutant," it continued.

"Wait, what!?" Kitty exclaimed.

"How's that possible!?" Scott demanded, peering once more down at the mutant through the glass window.

"Your systems must be scanning her wrong!" Bobby offered.

"That's a possibility, but the system is going to attack her as it reads her!" Beast replied.

"Forge, shut it down now!" Logan exclaimed, turning to the young mechanic.

"I'm trying!" Forge yelled, his fingers furiously flying across the control panels.

Lorelei stumbled in circle as at least 20 of the previous blaster now surrounded her, on top of three spinning blades lowering from the ceiling, numerous tentacles that snuck out from small crevices along the floor and two large walls shifting closer to her, prepared to squeeze her into oblivion.

"Crap," Lorelei grumbled.

She began quickly shooting at the blasters around her, her hands spouting out rays of golden light at rapid fire. A few were hit, but her tactics were much more frantic and haphazard, and most of them missed. She tried to dodge as many blasts as she could, but there were too many, even for someone with her power, and she soon yelled out in pain and stumbled down on one knee as one caught her in the back of the leg. She growled in frustration as she looked back up at the large shooters.

"That's how you wanna plan, huh?" She quickly got to her feet and spread her arms in front of her, several orbs of energy suddenly forming before her. She swung her arm up to the ceiling, and the orbs followed, each one crashing into their own blaster, sending a series of explosions bouncing across the room.

Lorelei suddenly turned to her sides and watched as the two large, metal walls sped towards her, focusing on that particular problem and not the 20 new blasters that had replaced the demolished ones along the wall. Lorelei shut her eyes and scrunched her eyes, a ball of the familiar golden light cascading in a protective dome around her. The walls crashed into its sides, forcefully pushing against them as Lorelei struggled to keep her bubble intact. She could feel small beads of sweat dripping down her forehead as she struggled to keep the detached walls from crushing her.

"That's enough!" she cried in frustration, her protective dome suddenly exploding into dangerous rays of light, the encroaching walls instantly reduced to merely a pool of melted metal by her feet. As she stopped to catch her breath, letting the dome fall away into little pools of dissipating, golden glitter, she was caught off guard by one of the spinning blades, the blunt end of its attached, mechanical arm sending her flying across the room and landing in an exasperated heap.

Nightcrawler quickly flipped from his perch. "That eez it. I'm gettink her out of zere," he proclaimed, Wolverine nodding his agreement. The blue mutant was gone in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a puff of sulfuric smoke.

He suddenly reappeared beside Lorelei, who was gently rubbing her head as she was slowly gathering herself up from the ground.

"Just holt on to me, Lorelei," he instructed, placing a helpful hand under to her arm to help pull her up. But before Nightcrawler ever had a chance to teleport, one of the ignored blasters fired at the two, most of the shots missing the pair save for the last one that hit the teleporter square in the chest and sending him flying and landing with a loud thud on the ground.

"Kurt!" Lorelei exclaimed, looking worryingly at not only her fallen teammate, but also at the series of blasters that were now training on the new, limp body. With a renewed sense of energy, she quickly ran over to the unconscious mutant, dropping and sliding right next to him and immediately activating another protective dome over the pair, just as bright blasts began to rain down on them.

"Forge!" Jean exclaimed, watching as Scott and Bobby hurriedly rushed down the stairs to help out the stuck duo.

"I'm trying, but nothing's responding! The systems are deadlocked!" he exclaimed just as frantically.

"Alright, guys, back up! I'm going to short-circuit this thing again!" Kitty yelled out to them over the rapid blaster fire just outside the viewing window.

"No, Kitty! Do you know how hard it is to find these kinds of parts again!?" he shrieked, almost appearing to bawl right on the spot.

"Hang on, Lorelei!"

The young mutant turned to see Iceman and Cyclops charging down the stairs and into the Danger Room, the latter swiping his glasses off and letting his open eyes release any built up energy they packed, the red glare tearing through the opposite wall as it took out a row of shooters. Bobby immediately iced up and began gliding across the floor, freezing the controls of the spinning blades, finally faltering their pursuit of the fallen comrades.

The four X-Men were suddenly taken aback as every piece of equipment suddenly became engrossed in a blanket of static, everything giving one last fizz before shutting down. The blasters disengaged and hung limply from the wall and the blades slowed down to a halt. They looked up the control center to see Shadowcat smiling and waving down to them as Forge stood next to her yelling and crying at the destroyed system controls around him.

Lorelei released the dome in a heavy, tired sigh, settling back against the ground. Her eyes suddenly grew wide as they spotted above her a flat-surfaced weight that, now disengaged, had nowhere to go but down. She watched, fearfully, as it began plummeting down towards her and Nightcrawler, her dome clearly not able to deflect a powerful weight such as that. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, determined as an idea hit her. Scott had caught on to the commotion and was seconds from taking his glasses off again, when Lorelei suddenly raised her hand, fingers spread apart, and sent a large ray of beaming light straight up to the weight, the metal contraption exploding into a group of large pieces that still remained en route to her. Now with both hands out, she sent out a different looking energy from her palms, the golden, sparkling force telekinetically halting the falling debris, and following the gentle movement of her hands, slowly landed on the ground beside her.

"Scheisse!"

Aulora turned to her side to find Nightcrawler struggling to sit up while roughly grasping his burning rib cage, his eyes shut in pain.

"Hey, relax, Nightcrawler. You were hit pretty bad," she gently explained, placing her hands on his shoulders and softly pushing him back into a lying position. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow as he watched her eyes suddenly glaze over in a bright, solid yellow as her fingers gently poked and prodded along his exposed, scorched skin.

"They're only second degree burns, but you have few bruised ribs," she explained. She guiltily withdrew her hand when the blue mutant hissed in intense pain as her finger traced along a more damaged area.

"Sorry, Kurt," she replied. She let her hand cascade over in a gentle, golden yellow as she turned back to the teleporter.

"Would you mind?" she asked. Seeming to know what she was suggesting, the young, German boy nodded, hissing and groaning as Lorelei placed her full hand right on his open wound. But within seconds, his lower chest and stomach became numb with a warm, melting bliss that immediately outweighed the pain. He looked down at her glowing hand and watched, fascinated, as his regenerated skin cells began to reattach, slowly closing his wound and returning it to its usual blue. He could also feel the sore tension in his chest release, as if nothing had ever happened.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

Lorelei suddenly felt a firm hand on her shoulder and was roughly thrown back from her patient, her eyes going back to normal, the connection severed.

"Scott, stop. Lorelei vas tryen to help me," he rasped, weakly getting to his knees to address the raging Cyclops that was starting to gang up on the fallen 17 year old. Out of nowhere, Logan stepped firmly in front of Scott, his eyes dangerously daring the young Summers.

"Summers, what do you think you're doing?!" Logan demanded, pointing a threatening finger at Scott's chest. The powerful mutant roughly swiped his hand away. The team was gathering around them, ready to step in and stop the two rivals from ripping each other apart

"In case you haven't noticed, a kid you thought was a nobody just survived a Danger Room simulation msot of us couldn't on a good day and you're letting her near Nightcrawler!?" Cyclops exclaimed.

"Ze gurl vas healen me, Cyclops," Kurt replied, gratefully accepting Bobby's help from the floor, the ice mutant slipping the acrobatic's arm over his shoulder for support, the blue mutant still winded.

"Summers, you need to cut the shit. While she's under this roof, she's an X-Men and you gotta start treating her like one," Wolverine commanded, the rough-and-tough lone wolf quickly slipping into his leader demeanor to address the former student.

"Just like Emma, right!?" Scott spat out sarcastically.

"You need to let that go, Summers! We were all caught off guard, but that doesn't mean that every mutant that shows up on our front door step is out to get us!" Wolverine reprimanded.

"Yeah, but a mutant who doesn't divulge anything about their powers or past isn't one I'm going to trust for a long time!" Scott threw back.

"So you don't want them acting like you, is that it Summers!? 'Cause last time I remember, you came to the institute with lasers shooting out of your eyes and completely silent about your past before the orphanage," Logan replied, looking hard at Cyclops, trying to figure out just what was scratching at the mutant.

Scott glared through his ruby glasses at his leader for a few seconds longer before storming off towards the control room and out of the Danger Room.

Wolverine released a heavy sigh. "Sorry about that, Munchkin. Scott's just—"

But the X-Men leader cut himself off upon seeing that the young girl was not only not behind him, but nowhere to be seen.

"Vat the heck vas in zose blasters, Forge?" Nightcrawler asked, rubbing his still somewhat sore chest.

"None of our previous training sessions have had weapons inflict that sort of damage," Ororo commented, watching as Hank rather roughly examined the young Kurt's newly healed chest, Nightcrawler wincing when the blue mutant pressed his fingers a little too hard.

"That's because the Danger Room programs its sessions to fit a mutants capabilities. The higher the mutant level, the more dangerous the sessions," Forge explained.

"She can't really be a Level 8 mutant. Can she?" Kitty asked, looking expectantly at the others.

"She certainly showed potential just now. Whatever energy she's controlling, she has a strong grip on it," Jean commented.

"Got any power diagnosis yet, Hank?" Logan asked, peering over at the pondering mutant.

"I'll have to take a closer look at the Danger Room scanners that evaluated Lorelei's abilities, but I'll see what I can do," he replied.

 

* * *

 

She watched, aloof, as the steaming hot water slowly edged its way up the side of the glimmering, pristine white walls of the cornered, jet-propelled bathtub, the rushing water foggily stirring around in her thoughts.

How long had it been since she had washed up in an actual tub or shower, a clean one, none-the-less. Years most likely. She had never possessed enough money to rent a small motel room or run-down apartment. If she did, it was stuffed deep within her pockets and saved for food, the young mutant ending up sleeping beneath the stars on the payment and tax free skyscraper roof tops in the big city.

And though she was a runaway, often falling asleep beneath those very stars with the utmost painful cravings for a substantial meal, she was a woman of hygiene. Even if it resorted to a few plunges in a fountain in the dead of winter, she would simply cover her body in a comforting layer of golden heat, tie her hair back up and fly back up to her realm in the skies. If she was lucky, she would be able to find an unlocked Italian restaurant or easy-to-access dog grooming facility with a large enough sink and enough dish soap/dog shampoo to get at the portion of caked dirt and grime that had always seemed to grow on her body over the course of a week or so. And every day after that, she would return to that place, of course until the owners smartened up to their shortage of cleaning agents and added more security.

But to see an actual bath tub, so large and glimmering, was almost hard for her to bear. With quick-to-heat water, dozens of jets scattered about its walls, and a neighboring, fully stocked cabinet of human shampoo, conditioner, soap, bubble-bath soap and body scrubs, she almost started to cry.

It was almost overwhelming to experience such a return to…normalcy. It was no doubt hard readjusting to life. Whether it was simply waking up in her own, cushy mattress or eating a home cooked breakfast in the morning, larger than what she had eaten in the span of a few days, maybe weeks only days ago, Lorelei never ceased to be surprised to everything she had lost while on the streets of New York City.

And now, admiring her very own beautifully furnished and fully stocked bathroom, she had one more thing to cherish.

She finally pulled herself from her daze and turned off the running water. She smiled at she slipped her toes into the steaming hot water, goose bumps raging up her skin. She slipped her body in the remainder of the way, letting out the most content of sighs, as she was finally submerged up to her neck. She giggled at first at the propelled water attacking her sides and back, but immediately became addicted to the relaxing feeling and stopped.

She closed her eyes and submerged the rest of her head underwater, letting the smooth, hot water cascade across her nose and cheeks. Suddenly, her left hand began to glow a familiar sparkling golden yellow. She raised it to her head, as it created a small golden mask across her mouth and nose. She waited patiently as the water was drained from the new mask, letting her nose and mouth breathe freely as she rested her body on the bottom of the bathtub, the jets lulling her into a fanciful dream world.

She didn't come back up until 2 hours later, her body wrinkled and water-worn to the shape of a prune. She deactivated the breathing mask and turned to the overhead shelving, admiring the array of brands before settling on a purplish shampoo bottle, a green conditioner bottle and a small bar of off-white soap. The sweet smell of lilacs and water lilies invaded her nose and pores as she went and scrubbed away at her skin and hair, completely dosing her body into her cleaning ritual.

When she had finally finished washing and rinsing, she climbed out of the shower and reached out her hand, a golden light cascading around two baby blue towels and an equally blue bathrobe as they flew over to her hand. She pulled her hair up into the twisted towel and tied the bathrobe tight around her and she pulled the stopper out of the drain.

As opened the bathroom door, letting the cooped up hoards of steamed air rush out and the chilly house air penetrate in, she was surprised to find a sheepishly smiling Kurt before her, his fisted hand raised as if to knock on the door.

"Kurt?"

"Hi, Lorelei. I just vanted to make sure you didnink fall in. You vere in zere for a few hours," he explained.

She gave a small smile. "No, just enjoy a nice, warm bath," she replied. Her eyes immediately fell to his chest, where there still was a hole from the morning's blast.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better, all sanks to you. Hank could not believe heez eyes," he chuckled.

"I never got a chance to say this, but thank you for trying to save me," she told him.

Kurt's smile fell as he adverted his eyes to the neighboring wall.

"Vell, tryink being zee operative word, no?" he stated.

"We were both caught off guard. But thank you all the same," she answered.

Kurt turned back up to her with a small smile on.

"Ze pleasure vas all mine, Vundershöne," he said, bowing slightly. His eyes suddenly lit up with excitement.

"How vould you like an official tour of ze mansion?" he asked.

"Well, I'll have to get dressed first," Lorelei started, horribly discovering that save for the thin cotton bathrobe around her, she was pretty much naked in front of the German mutant, "but I would love to."

 

* * *

 

"So when did you move here from Germany?"

The pair slowly trekked their way across the open grass, the chilly October wind nipping at their noses and ears. Kurt had just finished the inside tour, making sure to show the new mutant everything except the sub-level where his professor was residing, knowing Logan was still holding off on opening that bag. She was surprised to hear that the mansion now was no more than half the sum of its former glory, most of the halls then had been lined with small rooms where classes upon classes were held and that the bedroom count had easily superseded 50 in order to accommodate all the teachers and students that had previously lived there. Though they still kept at least 10 spare bedrooms and a handful of classrooms in the mansions new design, Logan had thought it best, at the time, to use the new space to increase the size of the team's bedrooms, the kitchen and the Danger and Training Rooms. But there were still many things that had been transferred over from the mansion's older design, such as the large library on the second floor, all three living rooms, the immense dining room and the infamous grand staircase.

"I vas 15 vhen I vas approached by Professor Xavier vith ze offer to join him and ozers like me at ze institute," the tall mutant explained.

"Did you leave much behind?" she asked, watching as he smiled a let out a small, deep chuckle.

"Not really. I vas raised by a local circus. I performed acrobatics for zem under ze public's assumption zat I vas in a costume, and when I teleported, it vas all by ze magic of ze ring leader," he explained. "But I could not keep ze secret forever, and vhen vord did get out about my demonic abilities, I ran avay from ze circus. But everyvere I vent everyone knew who I vas and cast me out. That vas until Professor found me."

"That's horrible," Lorelei commented.

Kurt only smiled. "Oh, do not fret, Fräulein. Though I vould've appreciated less clubbing, I do not regret any of my decisions," he replied.

"Clubbing? Were they that scared of you?" she asked, the two of them simultaneously taking a seat at the solitary bench that overlooked the crystal waters.

"Ja, zhey vere terrified. The county of towns I had teleported between vere deeply Catholic. Imagine a blue, pointed-ear creature runnink around vith a pointed tail and ze ability to disappear into ze shadows. I vas ze devil in zere eyes and deserved punishment for terrorizing zere towns," he explained, keeping his gaze locked on the sea ahead of him as a long string of painful memories returned.

 

* * *

 

He rested his arm against the window, his forehead resting on that as he watched the blue mutant and his new friend though the large, storm window, smiling to himself when the two started laughing loudly together at something Kurt had said.

"Did you find anything, Hank?" the mutant leader asked, his perceptive hearing able to pick up the scientist's footsteps from down the hall.

"Well, I'm still working on the data the Danger Room collected, but I was sifting through online sources of our new guest and I stumbled upon this," he explained, Logan turning around to accept a packet from the Mr. McCoy. At the top of the freshly printed page was the title of a local newspaper, followed by the word obituary. When Wolverine spotted the two names, he furrowed his eyes in confusion and turned back up to Beast.

"Why did you give me this?" he asked.

"5 years ago, both the son and daughter of Arthur and Lillian MacKenzie, Kevin and Allison MacKenzie, died in a skating accident on their private pond. At first, I saw nothing in resemblance to this case and Lorelei's story, but that's when I discovered this," Hank replied, handing another sheet to Wolverine.

"This was taken at the 2009 Congressional meeting where Arthur MacKenzie was sworn in as governor of Pennsylvania," Hank explained, as Logan scanned the photo of the four some. His eyes immediately fell to the young daughter, her blue eyes and blonde curls all too familiar.

"Is that…?"

"Lorelei? I believe so. Though I cannot explain how she is standing before us, yet she supposedly occupies Grave 289B in Mills Memorial Graveyard in Johnstown, Pennsylvania," Hank replied.


	3. The Circular Path of A Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!!!!!
> 
> So, steadily getting these up for you guys. Like I said, I'll definitely have the 9 chapters from my Fanfiction account up by the end of the week, and then we can start dabbing into some new material! And thank you for remaining patient with there first few chapters, too. You guys are the best! I was a little younger when I first started this series, and was just starting to get a steady hand in writing. But no worries! We'll get into some series action soon! Just as a side note, the Nightcrawler I write about kind of has this tendency to let some German phrases slip every now and then, especially when he feels he can express more of what he's thinking in his native tongue rather than in English. All of Kurt's little slip-ups will be posted in the end notes with the English translation. 
> 
> Cheers!

She looked out across the crystal waters, the sun playing off of the waves' edges like diamonds dancing with sapphire. She released a relaxed sigh as the warm, evening sun heated her skin and made her heart pulse even harder. She could almost feel the energy waves palpitate straight from the large sun above her and seep straight down, deep into her veins, feel it rush through every cell her in body and invigorate her very being. She could feel her heart pump faster at the new bout of energy that came rushing through her limbs, and a gently steady buzz thrummed against the inside of her skull, causing her to release a pleasured sigh before leaning her head back against the old wooden bench.

It was utterly intoxicating.

For lack of a better phrase, she was drunk on the sun.

And tonight, she would have cocktails of stars to continue to buzz dreamily through her sleep.

North Salem was no doubt a refreshing change from New York City.

It was no doubt cleaner. She could never see the stars from the sidewalks in the Big City, and even the sun wasn't fully exposed amongst the hundreds of sky scrapers, which never helped with her powers. There was always an overcast of soupy smog, sometimes the city smoke thicker than on some days. She had to travel high above the city if she ever wanted a little taste of that radiant energy.

Her power didn't require her to recharge or anything, being that her heart was well beyond enough to sustain her body's need for a celestial body's thermal and nuclear radiation. But it was always nice to feel that little…high she got when she was able to soak up a little sun.

Beneath her comfortable daze, she gave small smirk as small teases of memories slowly seeped past her mind's incomparable fortress and into the dim spot light.

Her nose immediately began to fill with a familiar stench of the city's underworld of sewers and garbage, her ears immediately playing back the soundtracks of car horns, human shouts and police cruisers.

She remembered being so terrified of it all at first, her comfortable town in Pennsylvania never preparing her for the chaotic life in the burrows of the Big Apple.

Days of being pushed about from person to person in the city's sidewalks immediately made her claustrophobic and she had eventually resorted to simply flying around the city, high in the sky.

She reminisced with amusement the sheer terror she possessed when her feet suddenly began to levitate from the ground for the first time and she had feverishly sworn she would never do it again, her acrophobia taking over. But, it quickly became evident to her that keeping her away from flying was absolutely pointless. That was her domain, her realm; the skies. Feeling the exhilarating wind catch and flutter her cape and whip and pull her hair was something she began to live for everyday. Feeling the gut-wrenching butterflies that circled in her stomach every time her feet left the ground was a hindrance for her when she first got to the city and began experimenting with her powers, but it soon became a complete rush and she loved it.

And that same invigorating, frightening sensation returned during the simulation in the Danger Room. Sure, it was a gentle reminder she was a little rusty with her combat skills, but where else better to refresh those skills than with the X-Men.

They would be able to change her high-intensity, octane-powered street moves into skills of pure power and concentration, ones that were smooth and connected, using the epitome of her power to her advantage.

She was suddenly aroused from her hazy daydream at the overwhelming prescience of a disturbance in the air. An emotion so strong, so lethal it seemed to hang in the air like a heavy, overpowering stench.

She turned to Nightcrawler, seated beside her on the bench, seemingly as sleepily relaxed as she was sitting in the cool, October sun, his eyes closed as he reveled in the calm afternoon. She gave a small smile upon seeing his tail twitch peacefully beside him, but she quickly turned back to the disturbance at hand. She focused her eyes harder, feeling the familiar twinge in the back of her eyeball as she surveyed the new array of colors that danced from the German mutant's skin like thick, soupy smoke, dissipating into the clear, golden colored skies above them.

Only hues of calm greens, blues and yellows sparkled from him, including the all too familiar blackish-red that seeped into the mix from all across his body. So then where was she sensing anger?

Her silent question was answered as an almost overcast of deep, blood red suddenly circled around her vision, the thick, colored smoke trailing like a blazing fire from yards behind her. She turned her head to find a disastrous scowl etched dangerously into the X-Men leader's face as he stormed towards the two, his red, feral anger seeping through every pore in his body.

Wolverine was at the pair's side in seconds, Kurt haven finally awoken from his daydream at the sound of his leader's forceful footsteps, Logan whipping around in front of Lorelei and slamming both hands against the bench on either side of her, his angered face only inches from hers, his rigid breath scratching against her cheeks.

"Logan, vat are you doing!?" Kurt exclaimed, completely flabbergasted by his teammate's actions.

"Get outta here, Elf. This is a talk between me and the newbie," he snapped back, a dangerous trickle of growls gurgling up from the pits of his stomach.

"But—"

"I said NOW, Wagner!" he barked, Nightcrawler immediately taking a hesitant step back from the feral mutant at the rare sound of his last name.

"Wo ist die weiße Königin , wenn Sie sie brauchen ?" Kurt mumbled beneath his breath before vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving behind wisps of black and blood red smoke.

Wolverine whipped his head back to the small girl with animalistic speed, his eyes glaring daggers.

"I let you in. I give you a place on the team and in my home with the promise that you were who you said you were!" he growled, watching as the young teenager before him cowered further back in the bench in fear.

"You told me you were an orphan. That your parents were dead. Come to find out, it's you who's dead! And have a living senator for a father!" he exclaimed, Lorelei completely afraid of the pair of dark hazel eyes before her, now laced over with the raw emotions of a caged creature, fighting for release. Lorelei felt her heart catch in her throat as she heard the familiar SHINK of the unveiling of Wolverine's claws.

She could feel dead, cold sweat trickling down her neck as one set of Logan's claws suddenly came into her line of vision and threateningly poked against the skin of her neck.

"You better be ready to spill, Bub. Because you don't want to know what the X-Men does to spies," he snarled, the feral mutant coming even closer to her face.

"Logan."

The fuming, feral mutant and his terrified prey both turned to Jean beside them, her face contorted in both expressions of confusion, fear and urgency.

"Reports have just come in from the city. Somebody's hacked into one of Master Mold's old factories and set a Sentinel and a group of Prowlers on the city," she informed, watching as her leader was finally pulled from his animalistic trance, his eyes returning to their hard stare.

"Have Forge prep the jet and get everyone one to suit up. I'll be there in 2," he instructed, his voice falling back into its commanding tone, dropping all hints of the beast he had just recently released. Jean hesitantly nodded, taking one fearful glance back at the newest member before running off back to the mansion.

The former Weapon-X whipped his head back to the still trembling girl, and before she knew it, he had reached deep within his pocket and flung out a circular ring that flew onto her neck and tightly clasped around it, notably clicking shut.

A burning sensation suddenly blazed across her spine and scratched against the inside of her brain, all too familiar side effects of an inhibitor collar. He roughly grabbed her arm and began pulling the girl alongside him as he made his way back up to the mansion, down to the newly reconstructed holding cells.

"Don't worry, I'll be back. And for your sake, you better hope it's not soon," he growled.

 

* * *

 

 

"So what are we looking at here?" Scott called up to the front of the fighter jet, Logan switching the plane's autopilot on to turn and address the team.

"A faulty breaker or an actual, planned attack?" the young Summers continued.

"This wasn't a slip up. Trask was an idiot, but a smart idiot. There's no way one of these could be accidentally programmed," Wolverine explained, the white eye slits of his costume watching his teammates absorb the new information.

"So someone activated them," Bobby replied.

"That's the way it looks," Hank replied from his cockpit seat beside Wolverine's.

"So what's the plan, Logan?" Jean asked from her seat beside Summer's, the X-Men leader almost smiling at her newly donned yellow and blue X-Men suit, a sight for sore eyes.

"Hank, I'm sending you and Kitty to Trask's laboratory to shut it down. If anything goes south, you get out of there and contact us. Kurt and Jean, you're going to deal with the Prowlers down on 17th and 9th, Ororo and Bobby, you get the two down on 25th. Scott and I will deal with the Sentinel," he explained to his team.

As the feral mutant turned to retake control over the plane, Beast turned to him with a skeptical expression on his face, the scientist reading Wolverine's emotions clear through his mask.

"Something else has you worried," he openly commented, not loud enough though for the rest of the chatting plane to hear.

"Just curious why Kelly never had Trask's tech cleaned up after Project Wide Awake was called off," Logan commented, firmly grasping the controls once more and shifting comfortably back into the cockpit seat.

"Maybe he just never got around to it," Beast replied with a small shrug, turning back to the X-Jet's large windshield.

Wolverine gave a small shake of his head, his thoughts still luring back to his prisoner back at the mansion. "Kelly's not like that. He's a use-or-trash it type of politician."

Hank turned back to his leader. "So…what, then? Why did Kelly keep it?" he asked.

"We're about to find out."

 

* * *

 

 

He could feel an eerie creep climbing along the small of his back, small goose bumps traveling along his spine and neck. He grumbled to himself once again, a habit he had formed within the hour, of his predicament as he tried to continue his work. But he simply could not deal with the elephant in the room and cautiously snuck a glance over his shoulder.

She was sitting cross-legged, staring absent-mindedly at the ground, her hair shadowing her down-ward turned face. Her hands lay limp in her lap, clasped together in inhibitor cuffs, Forge having hesitantly put them on, per Logan's orders.

"Forge, please stop staring at me. You know I'm not going to hurt you," she suddenly responded, causing the tech-savy mutant to almost jump completely through his skin, almost causing the sensitive wires in his hand to slip.

He established a firm but madly trembling grip on his work.

"Hey, you're not allowed to say anything, alright?! You're a prisoner," he responded, his voice noticeably shaking with uncertainty.

His defenses were flared.

A spy.

Just like Emma.

And there he was again; no defensive powers and no offensive powers. If the team ever had a robot invasion, he'd be the man to handle the job. But once again he felt as defenseless as a human against a mutant with abilities he was still trying to comprehend.

"Well, then could you please stop trembling? Your fear is blocking my concentration," she replied calmly.

The computer genius turned, perplexed back to his work, letting her words settle in his mind for a few more seconds before his eyes jerked open in realization, turning back to the containment cell to find out he had figured it out too late.

He released a nonchalant sigh, taking in the pile of sheet rock, shingles and dust that lay where the prisoner had once been, his eyes then traveling up to the large hole stretching across the roof, the evening rays of sun slipping through.

The techno-mutant turned, indifferently, back to his work, throwing a simply shrug over his shoulders.

"I told him the cuff and collar wouldn't hold her," he mumbled to the air, returning back to his work, grumblingly recognizing the fact that he would need to warn his teammates.

Eventually.

 

* * *

 

 

Smoke rose with a steady vengeance from scrambled cars, metal stretched and scorched like the jagged tips of waves. Pavement from the lining sidewalks was lined with toothed scratches, some even gaining the strength and tenacity to climb the walls of neighboring buildings. Large walls of road lay scattered in disheveled pieces, some gathering in deep pockets of earth formed by the haunting pounding of heavy, metal feet.

The Sentinel, with an unprecedented force, continued its treacherous crusade against the two, leading men of the X-Men team, both notably growing wearier with every ounce of force they encountered.

But what bothered Wolverine the most had the feral mutant throwing a fearful, hesitated glance back at the pedestrians who had gotten caught within the conflict, huddling ever so violently together by what remained of a small, coffee shop.

The Sentinel was smart.

It had known to attack a small, run-down neighborhood in the Bronx, most of the apartment buildings occupied by middle-class mutants who had been relocated shortly after Senator Kelly had passed the Mutant Housing Bill, allowing hotels and apartment buildings to deny housing to mutants, some even going to the extent of placing MRD soldiers on duty outside their doors.

Mutants from all across New York were, within hours of the passing of the bill, thrown mercilessly out onto the streets, most simply grabbed and pushed from their rooms, their luggage taken and destroyed by the MRD. With little to no money and miniscule means of finding some type of employment, the mutants flocked to small, neglected neighborhoods, such as the brick one he was standing in at that moment, and found refuge amongst each other and the desperate non-mutant owners looking to make some type of buck.

What Wolverine could not understand was why. The lab the Sentinel had been released from was at least 9 blocks away from there. If any of the robot's programming had been left intact, it would've gone for the first mutant it detected, rather than traveling all the way out there to attack a neighborhood of them.

Though the X-Men leader hadn't paid all that amount of attention to Forge's pre-mission brief's on the programming software used to create and activate the Sentinels, Wolverine knew that knowing to attack a large mutant population rather than the single straggler right within its view was something out of its capabilities.

Something else was at play there.

And as the former Weapon-X watched, unmoving, as his comrade was blasted clear from his stance before the robotic beast, the young Summers sailing limply through the air and landing with a fatal crunch against a far off Cadillac, smoke still billowing from his freshly activated eyes, he knew that whatever masterful hold was on the Sentinel and its band of Prowlers was not one to take lightly.

There was no way this was Kelly.

Kelly would've been brief. He would've made a short, concise statement, maybe apprehending a mutant or two while outlandishly advertising his campaign and then have called it a day. Though he was frightened enough from Charles's foreshadowing of the horrific future the mutant vs human war would entail, the Phoenix catastrophe in the city was enough to persuade the anti-mutant senator to continue his political tirade against the super-powered humans. His belief now was that as long as he kept the Sentinel Program off the streets, they wouldn't face the future the X-Men Professor had so vividly played out for him.

Wolverine mentally scratched the politician off the list, voicing a string of obscenities within his head along with it.

It had already been several hours and the robot before him was not giving up any time soon.

Someone else was controlling it.

Time finally balanced around Wolverine, the screeching sounds of the large city and muffled screams of terror from the pedestrians behind him now beginning to ring mercilessly in his ear as he turned back up to the towering Sentinel.

Its head stiffly twisted from its glare on the unconscious Cyclops, laying limp on the roof of the car, to look at the feral X-Men leader.

"Mutant detected," its mechanical voice decreed, its arm simultaneously rising to alignment with the still dazed Wolverine.

The feral's over-powered senses reeled back at the robot's proclamation. The hunk of metal before him was programmed to stick to the book. It had to detect the mutant first, then announce its motive to attack and then ready it weaponry system. The titan had gone from detecting straight to fight mode. Whoever was controlling the Sentinel was performing rather poorly in keeping up the Sentinel's former clockwork programming.

Or the strings behind the metal puppet weren't concerned about formalities.

He watched as the orb within its palm began to burn with a familiar, mortal purple. With animalistic instincts, Wolverine leaped from his spot, tumbling and rolling unsteadily at the sheer force that radiated from the deadly blast that ignited from the robotic creature. It sent an ear-piercing ringing bounding across his head as it imploded with the asphalt, sending debris flying everywhere and sending the group of huddled mutants into another disorderly frenzy of screams.

Wolverine looked gruffly up from his predatory crouch, noting that the power of the Sentinel's blast was physically impossible for a little bit of circuitry to handle.

It had to be siphoning energy from somewhere else.

He listened carefully as strings of affirming confirmations trickled through his ear piece, mistakenly believing that the alloy titan before him still contained its rather slow processing.

"Prowlers destroyed," Nightcrawler sounded.

"We're all clear here, too," Bobby announced.

"Innocents are safe," Storm added.

"Hank and I checked the lab. The place is spotless. Either the Sentinel and Prowlers were sent from another site, or Kelly cleaned house before we got here," Kitty informed.

And before the untamed, ademantium-filled mutant could have a chance for his heightened senses to assess the situation and react his body just in time, he felt his whole vision lighten with the blinding light of the Sentinel's blast, feeling a wrenching, dangerously fatal pain erupt all along his chest and his body go airborne.

The blinding pain that scorched across his ribs and upper abdomen were enough to vaguely cover his rather ungraceful plunge in the asphalt, but his now throbbing spine was indication enough that his healing factor was working on over drive.

His ringing ears could pick up the faint calls of his fast approaching teammates behind him, just as his blurry vision began refocusing on the encroaching Sentinel. He could vaguely hear Kitty calling out his name and Jean yelling out to Beast to help her with Scott, who Logan was already regretting not breaking the fall for. Scott wasn't immune to injury. Wolverine could care less what he put his body through.

Logan tried to weakly lift himself up from the ground, but his trembling arm wasn't able to carry his dead weight and he collapsed back to the battered pavement, half-listening as Iceman and Kurt began calling out to the distressed group of citizens while Shadowcat's footsteps were steadily growing closer.

Wolverine weakly turned his head up to the Sentinel, his shadow now completely covering the X-Men leader, who felt his stomach catch in his throat as the robot slowly inched his head in a circle, his eyes igniting as it registered the fast approaching band of new mutants.

"No," Wolverine whispered, watching as the Sentinel raised both hands, palms igniting, directing them on the group of huddled pedestrians, Iceman and Nightcrawler's backs to the threat.

"Guys!" Wolverine called out hoarsely, neither one of them catching their leader's warning.

While the adults of the cluster had their eyes trained on the two X-Men, watching them as they gestured toward subway staircases and restaurant basements, a small girl suddenly turned to the huge robot before the group, letting out an ear-piercing shriek as her small eyes settled on his glowing hands.

And time seemed to stop for Wolverine, as he watched in a indefinite haze as his young teammates turned, wide-eyed and astonished at the new threat behind them, throwing each other a quick glance of fear as they turned back to the innocents, their mouths now opening in showers of frantic screams. Feet began turning and faces became hysterically anxious as they prepared themselves to run.

Suddenly, Wolverine twisted his gaze beside him, a small corner of his eye abruptly stirring with a flash of white light from off to his side. He turned feebly to his right, his body suddenly igniting with blistering rage and anger.

There, floating ever so gracefully and proudly about 20 feet above him, glowing radiantly with a sparkling light, she fixed her steady gaze on the robot before her, letting it fully process her prescience. She waited patiently, her long cape billowing collectively in the wind, her fingers and fists calm by her sides, as a set of intense, purple eyes settled on her.

"Halt, mutant," a voice issued forth only seconds later, its palm raising to meet the mutant dead on, its palm merely feet from where she floated.

Jean and Beast stopped from carrying Cyclops from the dismantled car, Nightcrawler and Iceman turned from the fleeing crowd and Shadowcat peered up from her crouch beside the fallen Wolverine, Storm feet behind her, all staring at the face-off ensuing between their newly admitted teammate and an MRD weapon that was no longer under the order of its former master.

They watched the teen as she continued to fly feet above their heads, never adverting her gaze from the soulless optics before her, watching, unflinching, as its palm began to pulse its infamous purple shade, the whirs of its blasters ignition resonating throughout their ears.

In one, quick, fluid motion, she raised both arms from her sides and directed them at the activated blaster, sending forth an immense surge of brilliant energy from before her, sending it scorching through the Sentinel's blaster, its shattered glass crashing to the ground below.

The robotic weapon wasted no time in raising its other arm, already activating it before it left its side. With triumphant speed, the Level 8 mutant raised her hand before her, three golden stars suddenly materializing, glittering in radiant golds and whites. With a simply, rigid, upward flex of her hand, two of the flattened stars went spiraling towards its face, both exploding on impact as it collided with both optics, causing the titan to reel unbalanced on its heel, before it was able to right itself again, as it frantically twitched its head from side to side, clearing the smoke to show deep, black holes where its eyes had been.

With one, quick upward kick from her right leg, she sent the last remaining star hurtling towards the Sentinel's still raised and activated hand, the bright light sawing cleanly through the giant's wrist and sending its hand free falling towards the ground below.

The giant's movements were stiff and haphazard, its limbs skittering in an attempt to regain its demolished parts. But with one loud shout, she raised one, outspread palm towards the menace and sent an arc of pure, blinding light scorching through its chest, the scattered chorus of sparks from its damaged internal wiring resonating victoriously across the block.

Her eyes remained calm and collective, the blinding white light cascading along her body noticeably fading down to a small glow. The flying mutant continued to watch, unwavering, as the now lifeless husk slowly wobbled on its unsteady feet, finally begin its backward fall to the ground.

But her eyes quickly glanced to the sound of a small scream, catching a fearful glance of a small girl who had strayed from the group of mutant on-lookers, standing rigidly fearful behind the timbering titan, her eyes wide with palpable terror.

In a mere flash of light, she quickly flew to the girl, kneeling down and covering the small child with her body as the Sentinel came down with a heart-wrenching crash, echoing across the street.

"No!" Nightcrawler exclaimed, the entire X-Men team watching in a daze as plumes of smoke continued to billow from the fallen corps. They watched in silence, their heads reeling with exhaustion as they struggled to come to terms with what had just happened.

Storm reacted immediately, her eyes shading over in a hazy white as the sky simultaneously fogged over with dark and mysterious storm clouds, an immense wind climbing down from the black sky and enveloping the fallen giant in a dangerous fast whirlwind, altogether lifting him from the ground and throwing it off, limply, to the side.

With a small, gentle flick of her wrist, Storm commanded the silence of the whirlwind, sending only a small breeze over the battlefield, enough to play loosely with the folds of jackets and tips of hair strands, taking it with it the smoke that hid the ground where the Sentinel had fallen.

Everyone waited in loud, tangible silence, watching fearfully as the smoke cleared.

The first thing to catch their attention was the glimpse of an unmistakable, golden light, the patch slowly growing to reveal a small, protective orb, which seemed to dissipate with Storm's passing breeze, revealing a still crouched teenager, her arms protectively clutching the small girl beneath her.

The X-Men, who had gathered together before the spectacle, released a small sigh of relief. Shadowcat slowly helped Wolverine from the ground, the X-Men leader throwing her a small, grateful smile before turning baffled to the throngs of mutants that had gathered along the somewhat dismembered sidewalks, now erupting in cheers.

She slowly pulled away from the small girl, gently holding her petite shoulders as her perceptive eyes made a few glances over her body in search for injuries.

"Are you alright?" she asked, watching as the small girl slowly unlatched her eyes, her ponytails bouncing as she surveyed the world around her. Her big eyes turned back to the older girl, her mouth slowly spreading in a wide smile.

"Thank you," the small girl whispered.

The teenager gave a small, amused smile.

"It was my pleasure…?"

"Carly. Carly DesRoberts," she pronounced proudly, still watching with wonder as the stranger she had bumped into this morning was now glowing with a beautiful golden light, her dark blue cape billowing behind her and glittering like the stars in the sky.

"It's very nice to meet you, Carly," she replied.

"What's your name?" the small girl asked.

The older girl threw her a small smirk and made an obvious sweep of the crowd with her eyes. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked her.

The girls nodded with a gleeful smile.

The new X-Man let half of her ask dissipate, displaying the half of her face closest to the young girl. "My name's Lorelei," she replied to her.

The smaller girl gave a wide grin and quickly embraced the older teenager, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist, startling the X-Man enough for her to involuntarily slip the rest of her mask back over her face. "Thank you, Lorelei," she replied.

With a small, raw smile of appreciation, the X-Man slowly gathered the young child in her arms and carried her over to the still cheering crowd, watching as a young woman with similar, dark hair came rushing over, gently pulling her girl from the hero's arms and cradling her head against her shoulder.

She turned up to the young teenager with large eyes, brimming with tears of raw gratefulness.

"Thank you," she whispered, still rubbing her daughter's hair and clutching her tight. Lorelei gave a small nod and smile.

She glanced with mild surprise to her right as a young blonde in a ruby blazer and pencil skirt came rushing to her side, an equally young man following her closely while steadily holding a video camera, his skin a light mint green and his eyes a blazing orange hint.

She placed a small hand on the teenager's shoulder and turned with a wide smile to the lense.

"And there you have it folks. The Shadow Healer is back at it again and with an entourage as well. Does that mean we'll be seeing you fight the good fight along the famous X-Men?" she asked, turning to the teenage mutant.

Lorelei gave a small glance over her shoulder at the mutant team as they continued to watch her, and turned back to the reporter with a small smile and shrug.

"You know, you just might," she responded, resulting in a loud applause from the crowd as she turned and walked back to the team.

"Will this be the start of an epic team-up?! Tune back in next Monday for coverage of the X-Man's latest game-changing player! This is Rebecca signing off from Mutie News' live coverage team. Good night and good news!"

She slowly approached the team, Wolverine stepping out to meet her, the white slits of his cowl narrowed, hiding the obvious anger that was etched cleanly across his eyes. He stood resolute, looking down at the teenager with a straight-slit mouth, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, laying his hand out flat to Nightcrawler, who was beginning to approach Lorelei with an upturned smile on his face.

The teenager stood as equally steady, her eyes never betraying the utter fear she held in the undertaking of facing off against the former Weapon X himself.

"I heard the predicament over Forge's radio. It sounded like you guys needed some help," she replied, putting as much convincible strength behind her voice as she could.

"We were handling things just fine!" Wolverine growled, stepping forward until he was merely feet from the young mutant.

Lorelei gave a small smirk and made an obvious glance at the demolished neighborhood around her. "Yep, you guys had it covered," she replied.

"I don't care if we were being held captive by Mardies. You lied to us. The X-Men have no room for liars," he growled back, firmly pointing his finger in her face, her eyes fearful glancing down at his flexing knuckles.

He gave her one last firm glare before turning around towards the X Jet, parked by the end of the block.

"I let you do a physical exam of me. I went into your danger room and I showed you what I could do. And I know Forge had some kind of system reading my powers. What more do you want?" she called back to him.

The X-Men visibly cringed as they watched their leader stop dead in his tracks and issue forth a growl deep from the pit of his stomach. He quickly whipped around and stormed back to Lorelei, his face now mere inches from hers.

"Your father is the Senator of Pennsylvania. An anti-mutant Senator. That's putting my team's safety on the line. If word ever got out about you, the X-Men taking in his daughter, we'd have a bounty over each of our heads!" he exclaimed.

"And what makes you think I'm a runaway?" she asked, her brilliant, grey irises daring the leader to challenge her any further.

"A state Senator and a nationally acclaimed brain surgeon; do you think my parents wanted the publicity of having a mutant for a daughter?" she asked, her words cold, brutal rocks falling like heavy waves in the X-Men's stomachs. Even the feral Weapon X relaxed his predator-like stance, watching the girl before him with heavy concern.

"The night my powers manifested, my parents kicked me out of the house and told me to never return. I left everything behind in Pennsylvania. I had a life, I had friends…I had family. But they couldn't deal with the possible public humiliation of having a freak for a kid so they locked the door in my face," she explained evenly, her voice never wavering with emotion as she watched the mighty leader before her visibly relax his tense muscles, his eye slits slowly growing wider.

"My parents found it easier to kill me off. I read my obituary in the paper a couple of weeks later, so I took on a new name; Lorelei Harlow. Of course, New York started calling me the Shadow Healer after a few years so the new alias wasn't really needed," she continued further, gesturing to the crowd of mutants who had now gathered curiously by the fallen Sentinel.

She turned back to yellow cowl before her. "I'm not Allison anymore. She died 5 years ago; she doesn't exist. I am truly sorry for keeping that information from you. I never intended to place any of you in danger," she answered, letting her gaze fall to the ground at Wolverine's feet.

She waited patiently as Wolverine exhaled the smallest of breaths through his nose, as he habitually crossed his arms across his chest.

"You lied to the team, and that's going to take some mending to fix. You're going to have to regain our trust, and I know that's harder for some than others," he started.

The young mutant turned up to him with wide, baffled eyes, her mouth slightly agape.

"Wait, you mean…"

"There's still a spot on the team for a Level 8 powerhouse," he replied, a ghost of a smirk falling in his voice, as he extended his hand to Lorelei.

With the widest of smiles and the greatest of strengths, she firmly shook his hand.

"I would be honored."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt/Nightcrawler German to English Translations:
> 
> Wo ist die weiße Königin , wenn Sie sie brauchen? = Where is the White Queen, when you need her?


	4. All's Fair in War

"What's up, Hank?"

The blue, furry mutant turned to watch as the X-Men leader strode leisurely into the room, closely followed by the resident weather witch, clad in her usual straight suit attire, and their newly restored telepath, the brisk, autumn chill still clinging to her skin from her morning walk with her long lost lover.

"Information has been released from Kenyan officials of a recent development within the Serengeti Plains," the mutant scientist stared delicately, watching Storm with sympathy as her interest was noticeably piqued. "Reports are coming in of a virus that seems to be plaguing multiple tribes within the Plains for roughly 26 hours now. The authorities thought little of it until the first victim's death was recorded 2 hours ago. The Plains have been quarantined to prevent anyone from leaving or entering."

Jean immediately laid comforting hands on Storm's arms, the weather witch quickly clasping her hands to her mouth to prevent the inevitable scream from escaping as her body began to tremble in fear.

Her people were suffering.

"The Serengeti Tribes are secluded from civilization. How did they get infected with a virus that no one else in Africa seems to be suffering from?" Jean asked, carefully watching her strong, African friend's knees slowly grew weaker with helplessness.

"I'm not quite sure," Hank replied, skeptically rubbing the underneath of his chin as he continued to study the news reports that were playing on the overhead screen.

"Has anyone been sent in to help them?" Logan asked bluntly, crossing his hands over his chest.

"Scientists were sent in early to retrieve a DNA sample. They've been working on an antidote, but the death toll has been steadily rising. Doctors have been avoiding the area. The tribes have not received medical attention yet," Hank informed.

"We must help my people! They need help!" Ororo exclaimed, watching with a heavy heart as the people of the Serengeti Tribes suffered, the new footage closing in on a particular dirt path in the heart of the tribe where bodies simply lay, arm to arm, along the ground, tears streaming down the Weather Witch's face as she tried to discern if they were still alive.

"But what can we do?" Jean asked. "There's nothing we can do that Africa isn't already trying doing for them."

The X-Men leader gave a small, bemused grunt as he turned to exit the underground lab. "Yeah, but we also have someone Africa doesn't," Logan replied over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

The golden, setting sun continued to stream in through the tall, glass windows of the mansion's immense dining hall, the center table stretching enough to accommodate 5 chairs, comfortably on each side, and one at both heads. The sun rays glinted off the laminated wood of the dining set, the heavy smell of hearty, meaty stew and fresh bread rolls still lingering like a weighted mist. Along with the elongated shadows of the dining furniture stood the stretched shadow of a stationary figure, nestled deep against wide, strong window sill of the third window, her head leaning daintily against the glass.

She nursed a warm, rich cup of raspberry tea, a warmed bread roll from dinner sitting idly atop the rim of the mug as her other hand held an iPad in the crook of her palm, one of many that were scattered about the mansion. White ear buds were nestled in the smalls of ears as she listened intently to the suit-clad gentleman on her screen, his fist clanging resolutely against the podium he stood behind as he proclaimed to his crowd.

"We cannot allow this chaos to ensue any longer! As the future generation of our society, college students should not have to deal with the burden of prospering with mutants! So I urge you, fellow citizens, to vote wisely tomorrow. The 9th act of the MRA will allow colleges and universities to place mandatory mutant DNA tests in all of their applications, allowing parents to rest easy that their children will be safe within the confines of their school! Stand with me as we put a stop to this plague!"

The small girl cringed as a series of deafening cheers erupted through her ear phones, the Senator smiling and waving to the unseen crowd of supporters.

His speech troubled her greatly. Senator Kelly's tirade against the mutants was starting to cause more damage than she had ever believed possible. He had no idea what he had just done.

By giving colleges the ability to test applicants for mutant DNA allowed said institutions to deny these mutants acceptance to their university. He had just taken away their ability to further their education or ever dream of obtaining a higher-standing job later on. Dreams had just been mutilated, and all within 53 seconds of breath from a man who was a greater threat to mankind than an unchallenged Magneto.

She couldn't stop a small, single tear from escaping out of the corner of her eye.

What was her world coming to?

It was only a matter of time before mutants were denied of all rights. It wouldn't take long for some politician to make the buttery argument that the constitution stated "all men are created equal" and thus only applied to a man; not a mutant. All fingers would point in agreement, no human every truly aware of the torture they were inflicting. Soon, the MRD would become an unstoppable force, their jurisdiction superseding those of any other law enforcement, gaining the strength to push down all doors in search for mutants. A DNA scan would soon be required at every super market, every gas station, every hospital, every movie theater; no mutant would be allowed anywhere. Every mutant would be forced into a state of total deprivation, sanctioned to a desolated section of society to struggle futilely and die quickly of hunger, thirst, disease…anything. Sure, the Sentinel program had been supposedly desponded. But Kelly knew how to eradicate a species without every lifting a finger. Complete and utter genocide from simply planting the seeds of doubt and fear within a society that had yet to truly comprehend the idea of mutation.

"Lorelei."

The young mutant was suddenly whipped forth from her thoughts as an image of her leader suddenly invaded her iPad's screen, startling the young girl and causing her to involuntary launch her cup of tea and her bread roll into the air. A hand was splayed instinctively over her head to protect it, the young girl slowly pondering over the lack of the inevitable burning sensation she'd be feeling scorching across her arm. She hesitantly peered out from underneath her hand to find an un-spilled cup of raspberry tea and warm bread roll were floating gently above her head, her signature, golden energy tickling around them.

Had she done that?

How had she known to do that?

Lorelei was pulled back to the screen. "Hey, Munchkin. Suit up. We're headin' out in 5," Wolverine informed.

The young girl slowly reached into the air and grabbed her cup and roll and gently placed them on the ground by her feet. "Where to?" she asked.

"Africa."

 

* * *

 

 

Her finger was poised straight in the air, lingering patiently for her mouth to issue a greeting of some sort. And her mouth was waiting for her brain to make a decision.

She wanted to comfort her, her own heart clenching with anxiety as deep, colorful purples flooded out from the weather witch seated in front of her and pooled onto the ground in bucket-fulls. She wanted to reach out and grasp the young woman's hand, reassuring her that she would do everything in her power to help and heal her people. That was a promise she was never going to break.

But every time her mouth mustered up a voice to speak with, images of the team's pained expressions came pooling back into her mind with cruel and malignant slowness, letting her revel in the pain she had caused all of them.

Flat out and simple, she had lied.

Had it been all that devastating of a lie, not entirely. Sure, she had assumed Logan would become protective and aggressive, slipping quickly back into his animalistic inhabitations and facing her as his inner beast would a territorial lion.

But the hostility she received was one born of a deep-seated, raw cut, made long before she had arrived at the mansion. The X-Men , as a whole, had been deceived before.

That much was obvious.

Even before she had come out with the truth, it was easy to they all bore a similar, aching green that seep from deep within their core, coiling and dancing with salty regret and betrayal. Though the young Summers's green seem to overpower any other emotion he was feeling, sometimes rivaled with red when he was addressing her specifically, all of the teammates were experiencing it to some extent.

And she knew why.

It didn't take long for her to place two and two together. She had watched enough television before to know the X-Men had been without Jean for some time, the resident telepath at the time known as the White Queen, or Emma Frost, the previous founder for a small, prestigious academy in Massachusetts that eventually became somewhat of an institution for mutants, much like Xavier's. But Lorelei knew better. Rumors had spread like wild fire throughout New York, when the Hellfire Club had fallen away to the ascension of the Inner Circle, lead by the Black King, Sebastian Shaw, and his White Queen. She knew that Frost had still been a large part of the Inner Circle when she was officially inducted into the X-Men, and assumed her sudden disappearance and Jean's equally as sudden reappearance was in one way or another connected to her secret society.

She had collected bits and pieces of the Phoenix outbreak earlier that year, no one in New York truly knowing what went down, and knew, in some way, had made the switch from Frost to Grey.

The 'how' to that equation had still yet to be calculated, but that was for another time.

For now, she simply needed to convince her new family that she was not, in any way, shape or form connected to any underground mob or secret black market that was looking to do them harm.

That's if they even still considered her a candidate for the team.

If there was one thing the X-Men were professionals at, is was the cold shoulder. Sure, due to the immense size of the mansion, it was rather difficult to run into the same team member twice in one day. The lack of immediate danger also helped, most of the team enjoying this apparently rare stroke of peace and quiet, and were usually off, out on the town doing their own thing.

Jean and Scott had taken up jogging together around the neighborhood, heading out in the early morning when the sun was just barely peaking over the horizon, and in the late afternoon, usually returning home well into the dark, October night. Lucky for her, she always seemed to be in the kitchen right when the X-Men couple was grabbing a pre-jog snack and she was stuck in the tangible threat of silence that ensued. Jean would always throw her a small sympathetic smile, giving her a small wave on occasion before they headed out into the brisk atmosphere. But she always made sure to do so after Scott had left the room, knowing her boyfriend would no doubt spontaneously combust. The young Summers, on the other hand, was simply a caged beast, waiting for an excuse to unleash. He had made it his point, numerous times throughout the past couple of days to purposely ramming into her in a secluded hallway and glaring his stoic red lens at her, edging her on to fight back and grant him a pass to completely wipe the floor with her. Lucky for her, she was hard to instigate. Lucky for him, he was letting off some pent up anger without Wolverine in sight.

Storm was forever out in the X-Men's greenhouse, Lorelei repeatedly catching her simply sighing to herself and staring absent-mindedly out to the vast expanse of ocean in their backyard. It was easy to tell from the shades of blue trickling off of her that she was mourning the loss of someone. Whether she had been close with Emma Frost, or she was lamenting over someone else, Ororo was a fan of quiet solitude. But, it wouldn't take the weather witch long to slip into her maternal combat uniform, ready to chastise Bobby for leaving behind residue from yet another hallway ice slides, or braid Tildie's hair when the small girl was heavy with homesickness.

Bobby was an interesting boy to watch. In all truth and honesty, it didn't seem he gave one flying monkey about anything Lorelei had done. As one of the more frequent mansion dwellers Lorelei continually bumped into, the ice mutant looked eager to invite her to do something. He always greeted her with a wide, goofy smile that always caused her to involuntarily smile as well, his carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude completely infectious. As the jokester and one of the younger members of the team, the rather uptight X-Men unknowingly dependent on their ice prankster to keep all of them from pulling their hairs out. Bobby made the team a little less…well, like a team. He made it more of a family. When Bobby was around, it was easy to forget the weight of the public's safety resting on their shoulders. Though the team made it known that Bobby's crazy antics never pleased them in the slightest, his almost child-like demeanor was what kept them all grounded to the real world.

And Lorelei would've joined him in his crazy schemes, if it wasn't for the warning glare Bobby continually received from Kitty that kept the ice mutant walking past Lorelei without so much as a second glance. The phase shifter was a force to be reckoned with, with or without powers. It was even interesting to study Kitty bring even the mighty Wolverine to a stuttering mess, the young brunette able to place every single member in their place. And it saddened Lorelei to speculate that the young Pryde would be one of the last X-Men to finally forgive her. Kitty greatly reminded her of the life she used to have. Long days at the mall, late night sneak-outs to clubs, muffin baking sprees and beach towel tanning; Kitty was Lorelei's spyglass into her life back in Pennsylvania. Kitty was a reminder of the girlie-girl she had once been; magazine collector, organic facial activist, nail painting expert, shopping advocate. Kitty was her.

Hank seemed to have a manipulated opinion in the whole matter, much like Bobby. Except for Beast, Logan was his Kitty. Which wasn't all that bad being that Logan, for whatever reason, seemed to have a trust in her she wouldn't even place in herself. Hank was a faithful soldier to his leader. As the team's superior intellect, Beast seemed to be the brains that kept the X-Men machine operating. As a man of science and literature, Hank was always experimenting or reading something. He was an ever busy man, and when you thought was through for the day, he would assign himself something else to do. At first, Lorelei simply thought he was a hard worker. But she soon began to see that there was an underlining addiction to work, that he seemed to require to be busy. Even if the task was simply to prepare the table for dinner, he was quickly on it and seemed to relax while in action.

Nightcrawler…now that was a large subject. Kurt almost never seemed to be at the mansion…at least visibly. She almost continually heard his signature 'puffs' scattered all over the mansion, but Lorelei never got to actually lay eyes on him. He was a man of solitude and a man of secrecy. Though she gathered from numerous conversations that Kurt's rather frequent disappearances was natural, that the team should 'give him some time,' she actually wanted to see him. They hadn't spoken at all since the Sentinel catastrophe except for this morning, when she caught a glimpse of him in the hangar as the jet was departing, the two, young mutants exchanging a small, farewell wave before the Black Bird lifted above ground and took off.

She was surrounded by such incredible and astonishing people that she desperately wanted to fit into. She knew she would have to gain their trust, a normal initiation that she would've have to have undergone even she hadn't lied.

And that somewhat large feat was what involuntarily pulled the young mutant's finger back down to her lap and closed her mouth from communication with the down-trodden Ororo. She needed to prove she was an X-Man before she was initiated into the status of 'family member.'

"Hank'll drops us off at the drop zone before landing the jet a few miles off site so the Bird doesn't bring any germs back with it," Wolverine threw over his shoulder as if almost a last-minute thought, breaking Lorelei from her deep thoughts and bringing her curious attention to her nearby window.

Wolverine gave a small smile as the newest member let out an excited gasp, her eyes catching sight of a small herd of giraffes that were galloping steadily through the arid planes the cloaked Black Bird was now soaring less than a hundred feet above, thick clouds of brown sand gathering by the tips of their hooves. Her smile grew even bigger as an approaching watering hole held vast groups of zebras and antelope, the small peaks of hippopotamus heads popping out of the deep water rifts, the bright, hot sun glittering off their wet noses. Small, pristine, white birds soared through the dry, cloudless air by her window, her eyes wide with wonder as she watched the small creatures glide through the air with masterful ease. It was if she had been transported to another world, the vastness and immense beauty displayed across the land almost hard to believe existed within the same universe.

"It's…beautiful," her stumbling mouth finally said, her hand pressed up against the glass, thinking to herself that 'beautiful' didn't even begin to describe it. She was surprised the find the previously silent Storm turn to look out her window with the faintest of smiles, watching the newest recruit out of the corner of her eyes.

"It is Africa's rain season. Most herds now are migrating along the paths and streams of water, trying to consume as much as they can before the rain season's over," she replied, watching fondly as a herd of elephants frolicked playfully through a large watering hole, small calves fluttering their ears exuberantly as their mother's caressed them with warm water.

"Do you ever miss it?" Lorelei asked, peering away from the window for only a few seconds. Her stomach felt queasy, desperately wanting to take her question back as long seconds of uncomfortable silence followed.

Storm finally answered, Lorelei surprised to find her smiling. "I do. It's always nice to visit. But the institute is and forever will be my home. I belong with my family," she replied, finally turning her head completely to smile fondly at the young child before her.

"Approaching drop zone in 20 seconds. Prepare for departure," Logan called back to the cabin behind him, Storm and Lorelei replying with the small clicks of their seatbelts as they quickly got up and made their way to the cockpit.

"I'll hover over the plains' border. You'll only have a small window of opportunity to enter here," Hank instructed, pointing to a small space on the small, digital map on the screen by his side, "before another sanction guard is placed on duty, so I suggest you move quickly."

"What about inside the village?" Lorelei asked.

"Other than the natives no one else should be in there. You'll be fine," Hank replied.

"Alright, Hank. Lower the pad," Wolverine instructed, simultaneously pulling his cowl over his head.

Lorelei watched as a small circle behind the cockpit slowly detached itself from the rest of the flooring and slid aside to reveal a large hole in the ground of the jet.

"Alright, Munchkin. You're up," Wolverine replied, the three of them huddling around the edge of the circle.

Lorelei scowled over at him before stretching out her hands and encasing Logan, Ororo and herself in a glittering, golden sphere. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that," she teased, her dark mask slowly cascading over her face.

"I will once you finally come up to my shoulder," he jeered back, Lorelei only smiling back as she quickly twitched her fingers upward, carrying the three-some off the floor of the jet and lowering them through the hole and down to the ground below.

They finally descended the small, 40 ft drop, their feet just making connection with the ground when they heard the small roar of the Bird's engine shift as it flew away, a small blast of wind gusting forth from its engines creating a large cloud of dust around the three X-Men.

"We'll use the sand for cover until we safely make it into the village," Wolverine whispered, his heightened smell and hearing picking up the stench of gun powder roughly 100 feet to his left and crunch of a heavy boot upon the sand more than 150 to his right.

The group slowly trekked forward, the dark shadows of the small stone wall surrounding the village their only viewpoint from the still thick sand that swirled around them, Lorelei taking the lead as Storm and Logan trailed behind her, the X-Men leader carefully listening to the world around them.

He almost startled back as a small flash of light burst directly below his nose, the weather witch faltering in front of them briefly, turning back to her leader to find they both now bore a small, golden mask that pinched at the bridge of their noses and widened out to fit around the mouths.

"Don't worry. It filters out the carbon you exhale so you have fresh oxygen to breathe with," Lorelei replied, the small teenager turning slightly behind her to address them, bearing a similar mask.

"What are these for?" Wolverine asked, peering skeptically down at the golden contraption.

"Safety precaution. Just in case you catch the virus and I can't heal you," she answered back, continuing forward.

"Why wouldn't you be able to heal us?" Logan asked, nimbly charging ahead to keep even pace with the small girl before him, trailing behind her dark cape that danced lightly with the dry, African wind.

"There are limits to my abilities, Wolverine, that I don't even know about. This is just in case one of them gets in the way," she replied.

Logan could smell the instant fear that pooled out from the weather witch beside him and carefully reached out and tightly squeezed Storm's small hand in his own, gently rubbing her fingers in reassurance. She smiled vaguely up to her leader only to let her sullen eyes fall back to the ground below her.

"We're here."

Wolverine and Storm glanced up at the sound of Lorelei's voice, watching as the sand finally fell completely away to reveal a wide area of land, small groups of greener grass appearing every now and again like polka-dots on the arid ground.

Small huts were scattered as haphazardly as the green grass, most seemingly occupying their own hill, a series of chicken clucks echoing from behind one the three-some passed. The huts were made of thin, river reeds, long, dry stalks of some sort bundle together to form a covering over each one. Large rocks were gathered along a large watering hole in the center of the village, intricate paintings decorating its smooth surfaces as tall bundles of reeds held a small flame at their tops, heavily scented smoke wafting from them and gathering like an ominous cloud in the atmosphere above.

As the X-Men drew nearer to the ceremoniously grouped boulders, Lorelei was able to spot a thinly, structured man kneeling before a burning reed, incomprehensible strings of words trickling from his mouth.

"Kajhki?" Storm asked, Lorelei noticeably peaked at the sound of the thick, African accent that drizzled like sweet honey from Storm's mouth.

The tall man quickly spun from his position on the ground, turning wide-eyed to the white-haired X-Man behind him. A large smile grew on his face as he quickly leaped from the ground, his thin, orange blanket covering billowing with him, and ran right up to Storm. Lorelei studied his wardrobe with deep interest, curiously observing the large, beaded necklaces that hung from his neck, along with his belt, made of a tan-ish animal fur and decorated with colorful feathers and more beads. His dark skin was hair free, including his bald head, and his dark eyes noticeably studied Wolverine and herself before approaching Ororo.

He tightly grasped her hand and clutched it close to his chest.

"Hebu matumaini tena! Malkia yetu ina akarudi!" the man exclaimed, falling to his knees before Ororo. (Let us hope again! Our queen has returned!)

"Kajhki, ni vizrui? Ambapo ni watu?" Storm replied, Lorelei absolutely entranced by the beautiful language that seemed to flow out so naturally from the weather witch's tongue. (Kajhki, where is everyone? Where are the people?)

"Wengi ni ndani ya nyumba zao. Wale walio wagonjwa wamewekwa katika ukumbi mkubwa," the man replied, his hand gesturing behind him as he kept his eyes locked on Storm's. (Most are in there homes. The sick have been placed in the hall.)

"Jinsi ni wao ikifanya?" Storm asked. (How are they faring?)

Lorelei turned to her leader, a small hand covering her mouth from the stranger as Wolverine leaned in to listen. "Did you pick up anything?" she whispered to him.

"Yeah. He doesn't speak English," he whispered back, the young mutant throwing him a dean pan expression before turning back to the conversing natives.

"Kila mtu ni kuanguka kwa ugonjwa. Na wagonjwa ni kupata tu wagonjwa," the tall man responded. (Everyone is falling to the disease. And the sick are only getting sicker.)

"Usijali, Kajhki. Nimemleta msaada," Storm replied, reaching out her hand and beckoning Lorelei forward. The young girl turned warily to the stranger before her, glancing once again at Storm's open hand before slowly stepping up beside her. (Do not worry, Kajhki. I brought help.)

"Hii ni Lorelei. Yeye ni rafiki na mganga kutoka nyumbani yangu. Yeye ana kuja kukusaidia," Storm replied. (This is Lorelei. She is a healer and a friend from my home. She has come to help.)

A large, beaming smile grew on the tall man's face as he kneeled down on one knee and roughly grasped Lorelei's hands in his own, staring deep into her eyes. "Ana mikono ya roho na nguvu na macho yake na baraka ya nyota. You kutembea kati roho kubwa, Ororo," he replied, Lorelei watching warily as his rough-skinned finger traced delicately over her forehead before it landed, open palmed above the center of her chest. (She has the hands of a strong soul and her eyes hold the blessing of the stars. You walk among great spirits, Ororo.)

"What is he saying?" Lorelei whispered over to Storm, as the old man continued to roughly grasp her hands with his weather-worn fingers.

"He says you have the hands of a strong soul and your eyes hold the blessing of the stars. Kajhki is the tribes spiritual leader. These are very high compliments," Storm explained.

"Tell him that I thank him and I will try everything in my power to help his people," she whispered back to Ororo.

"Yeye shukrani na anasema yeye kufanya kila kitu katika uwezo wake ili kusaidia kuponya wate wetu," Storm translated. (She says thank you and that she will do everything in her power to help our people.)

Kajhki's smile only grew wider as he stood up, still grasping Lorelei's hands, and led her to a long hut further in the distance, Storm and Wolverine trailing close behind.

"What did he say?" Logan asked, peering over at his comrade.

"He's taking us to the hall, where they seem to be keeping a large majority of the sick. But he says that people are falling each day to the illness, and no one seems to be getting better," Storm explained, watching almost fondly as the older, spiritual leader continued to stare, amazed and awestruck , down at Aulora, the small teenager completely oblivious.

"Have anymore died?" Logan asked, keeping his eyes on the stranger and his still tight grasp around Lorelei's hands.

"Each burning torch by the painted boulders where Kajhki was praying signify a spirit traveling to the heavens. The fire guides them to the afterlife," Storm explained. "There were 36 burning torches."

The group continued until they reached the entrance of an elongated hut, a large, heavy blanket covering the doorway entrance. Two bundles of reeds were burning on both sides of the doorway. Kajhki entered first, holding the heavy threaded curtain open for Lorelei. The new recruit stepped in, closely followed by Storm and Wolverine.

Storm's eyes immediately began to brim with tears at the sight of the inside of the hall. Her people were packed, shoulder to shoulder, across the ground, some people scattered about tending to the sick. Her ears echoed with painful groans as some tossed ruthlessly in fitful sleep, while others struggled against ravishing fevers, their hot, sweaty bodies rid of clothing and draped with cool, wet towels.

Wolverine glanced desperately around the hundreds of bed-ridden bodies, until his attention fell to the mutant teenager before him as she issued a helpless yelp of pain before her body limply crumpled under an unseen weight. The X-Men leader swiftly came to her side and quickly rushed his arms underneath her armpits and slowly lifted her up. As her legs finally gained enough strength to hold her own, he held his hands tight around her shoulders as she weakly clasped a hand to her sweat-covered forehead.

"Everythin' ok?" he asked, watching and waiting for her to gain her bearing before releasing her, but still kept a watchful eye.

"Healer powers 101: you feel the pain before you see it. I was not ready for that," she replied weakly, her voice scratchy.

"You think you'll be ok to heal 'em?" he asked, noting how the small teenager tightly grabbed onto his arm for support as he lead her deeper into the disease-ridden hut.

"Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you and Storm and…Kajhki over there don't touch any of them. The masks'll protect you if the disease his airborne, but by the strength of his virus I can't predict anything," she replied.

Lorelei slowly let go of her leader and eased herself into a kneeling position on the ground. The patient before her was a strongly built man, much larger and younger than Kajhki. Unlike the spiritual leader, he had a large, curly mess of jet black hair that covered the top of his head. He wore a small loin cloth but nothing else, Lorelei soon able to feel the immense heat that radiated off his sweaty skin. He had a red painting of a hand print on his right bicep that was already starting to smudge from the pools of sweat that trickled off of his body.

She let out a low and easy breath, and settled her hands on top of the man's chest, her hands almost burned by the crazy heat his body simmered in. Wolverine watched as her eyes quickly opened, covered in the familiar golden light as her fingers methodically traced along his chest. Her left hand slowly traveled to his forehead while her other set of fingers laid over his heart.

What seemed like hours had passed, Storm and a fascinated Kajhki eventually joining Wolverine as they watched the healing spectacle, the trio startled back as the small teenager let out a loud gasp, her wide, golden eyes returning to their normal shade of grayish-blue as she let a shrill gasp escape her mouth. In one, quick motion, she grabbed the hands of her teammates and Kajhki and rushed them outside the hall. They stood there, stunned, as Lorelei quickly spread a hand out and cascaded the entrance with a thick wall of gold.

"Lorelei!" Storm exclaimed.

"Kid, what's going on?" Wolverine asked sternly.

"The illness. It's not an illness. Well, not really. Kind of—"

"Munchkin. Slow down and rethink," Wolverine instructed, laying a steady hand the teenager's trembling shoulder.

Lorelei inhaled a deep breath and turned to her teammates. "This isn't a natural disease. The viral cells' DNA strands have explicit signs of synthetic tampering and protein replacement. This isn't a plague. This is biological warfare," she explained gravely.

"What…?" was all Storm could produce as she weakly placed a hand to her forehead, letting the news sink like twisted thorns into her troubled mind.

"Are you sure, kid?" Wolverine asked.

She nodded. "I'm sure. Someone created this virus. It spreads through contact, and fast. It's tricking white blood cells and antibodies into thinking that it's simply a bacterial virus that it can handle. The immune system takes it on, only to realize it's not equipped to handle it and the virus complete eats away at the white blood cell count so there's no way for the body to fight back," she explained.

"So, can yah heal 'em?" Logan asked, Kajhki simply watching the exchange between the foreigners and his down-trodden weather queen.

Lorelei let out a slow, tense sigh. "Can I stop the virus from inflicting more damage; I think so. The problem is completely eradicating the virus. Sure, the villagers may be healed. But the virus will still be lingering in the air or residing on fabric and walls and rugs. That I can't stop."

"So we find the people who created it and see if we can create an antidote," Logan reasoned.

"It's not as simple as scanning a bar code for a sale price. Biological warfare is a tricky thing to trace back to an owner. There are so many disease labs and facilities that work under the radar, and for good reason. Tracking it back to its source is impossible," she commented.

Storm turned to her trusted friend beside her. "Kajhki, kumekuwa na vitisho yoyote yaliyotolewa na kijiji kama yas marehemu?" she asked, hoping desperately he had some clue her team could use. They were running out of time and options. (Kajhki, have any threats been made against the village.)

"Ndiyo, malkia wangu, kulikuwa na mtu alikuja siku iliyopita, kuuliza kwa upatikanaji wa maji yetu," the older man replied, pointing off in the distance to the large, land basin in the distance filled to the brim with fresh water. "Nikamuuliza kwa nini alitaka yake. Alijibu kuwa kampuni yake ilikuwa kuangalia kupanua katika ardhi tembo. Nilikataa basi matumizi yake. Alisema kuwa sisi walikuwa hawajaona ya mwisho ya yake." (Yes, my queen, there was a man who visited yesterday asking for our water supply...I asked him why he wanted it. He said he was looking to expand his company into the Elephant Plains and needed resources. I refused and he said we had not seen the last of him.)

"Wait. Tembo…doesn't that mean elephant?" Lorelei asked out loud to herself.

"They're probably talking about the safety of their village, and you take away 'elephants' from that conversation?" Wolverine asked, his arms crossed rather irritably across his chest as he continued to sit and listen to the two African natives continue to converse.

"I'm sorry if the Serengeti Wildlife webpage only has a translation dictionary for animal names," the teenager threw back, earning her a small corner-mouth smirk from the X-Men leader before his attention was brought back to Storm's alarmed eyes.

"A man came a few days ago asking for access to the village's water reserve. Kajhki refused when he heard they were planning on building construction over the Elephant Plains and the man threatened to return," Ororo explained to her comrades.

"Are we to assume that's our guy?" Lorelei asked peering up at her leader.

"It's the only lead we've got. We can pull up data searches of any companies looking to expand into the Serengeti. Would your friend be able to recognize his face?" Wolverine asked, turning to Storm.

The weather witch relayed the question to Kajhki, the thin man nodding a firm head in response.

Logan pressed a finger to his cowl's inner ear piece. "Hank, we'll meet yah at the first rendezvous point for pick up. And get Jean on the line with Cerebro and have her prepped to do a grid search," he instructed.

"I'll stay down here to work on the virus," Lorelei added. She gave Kajhki a small smile while directing her conversation to Storm. "Could you tell him I'm just going to put a temporary shield over him? He's not showing any symptoms of the virus, but his body could still be carrying it and I don't want it getting aboard the jet," she explained.

 

* * *

 

 

She let in a tense and heavy sigh, feeling her lungs prickle with anxiety and desperation as she looked around the full hut, realizing with a torturous heave that this just the hall.

Was she prepared to do this?

The most extensive healing process she had worked on was 40 year old mother who had stage 4 breast cancer.

The hospitals took one look at the orange, fire-secreting spots all along her arms and immediately turned her away from any form of chemotherapy. And if they did welcome her, the hospital purposefully charged her for 'access expenses' that she couldn't afford anyway. It had taken a whopping 4 hours to completely rid her body of all cancer cells, including a malignant tumor Lorelei had discovered halfway through the process the patient never knew about. Though she required a few breaks in between, whether it was to catch her breath or shoo her two, rambunctious sets of twins out of the bedroom for what felt like the ump-teenth time, she went in with confidence that she'd be able to handle it.

Sure, it had been the first time she had attempted completing her own form of chemotherapy.

But she knew it wasn't out of her reach.

But the hundreds of occupied cots, the chorus of rugged coughs and merciless moans, the smell of fevers of unconsciousness…all she felt sloshing around in her brutally empty stomach was pure and utter doubt.

Her mind went into overdrive as she began multiplying and calculating out just how many patients she had. There were 120 people in the hall, and as of this morning, Kajhki had counted at least 45 more spread out amongst the huts outside. That meant there was at least 165 patients that needed tending to, disregarding the cases that no doubt accumulated over the past few hours.

What was she going to do? Who was she going to start out on first? She could start in the hut, but what if there was an even sicker patient nestled in one of the surrounding huts? So then she would search the huts first. But the Serengeti Tribe encompassed an area with a 12 mile radius. If she took time to stop by each individual hut to check up on each individual patient, she could lose the window of opportunity to save the lives within the hall. On top of that, there were still 2 other Serengeti Tribes she had not visited yet.

And what sent the young girl buckling to her knees to the soft wood below her, weighted by great turmoil and despair, was that she was now responsible for each and every life in the tribe. They had been put under her care; it was her job to make sure that the death toll would not steal one more life.


	5. Kings, Queens and Pawns

"Hiyo ni yake. Hiyo ni mtu."

"That's him," Storm translated, Wolverine and Beast watching as the tall Serengeti native frantically pointed to the over head, projected photo.

Beast peered over the rim of his reading glasses, studying the small description. "Richard Argo. CEO of Argo Incorporated, a series of global facilities and factories that process minerals from off-shore sites into varies types of metal. Argo Incorporated supplies many international tech businesses and machinery depots, including our dearest friend, Trask Industries," he informed.

"So Argo was looking to set up shop here and needed the water to power his machinery, most likely. But why Africa? There's nothing here for resources," Wolverine pondered, his hand resting pensively along his chin, his cowl pulled back and laying limply from his neck.

"I got a hit on Cerebro," Jean's voice stated, traveling through the speaker systems. "He's at a facility called South Bio, a chemistry research facility in Pretoria, South Africa, which, Scott just researched, has actually been recently accused of creating malignant viruses and diseases and selling them to black market bidders. The only thing that's keeping it afloat is the quite generous donation it made to the African government years ago."

"Looks like your Argo pal's in bed with a bio-weaponist," Cyclops added smartly, Storm giving out a warm chuckle of amusement at the obvious roll of Wolverine's eyes, the significant tension between the two X-Men staying at a tolerable level.

"So are we to assume that Argo's looking to annihilate the Serengeti Tribes in order to gain unquestionable access to the water reserves and plains?" Hank asked, turning to the two X-Men and the tribal healer behind him.

The weather witch delicately crossed her arms across her chest. "It would appear that way," she replied.

Both X-Men turned to a small hum in thought from their leader. "Something doesn't smell right here. The Serengetti people are unarmed pacifists. Why go through all of this, when Argo's got the ammo to just drive right through to the plains and set up shop?" he spoke aloud, rendering the other cock pit dwellers speechless. "Something else is at play here."

 

* * *

 

 

"Come on, Allison. Don't worry about them. Come and play outside with me."

Lorelei wearily shook her head, issuing a low, gravely moan as throbbing erupted like spikes all along the inside of her brain. Her head swam with horrible, crushing pain, causing her to whimper out feebly as the shimmering gold surrounding her healing hands began to flicker violently.

She was getting weaker.

She had been foolish to lose concentration over her mask, even if it had been only for a few seconds. But that's all the virus needed.

She sluggishly honed in on the young woman's heartbeat beneath her, heavily sighing with deep gratification that her pulse was growing stronger and her fever was slowly breaking. A minute or two more and she could move on to the next patient.

But her seconds of pleasure were demolished at the rise of a deadly burn within her lungs, her hands flying to her chest as she gasped achingly through the pain. Eventually, she couldn't fight against it and the deadly fire in her lungs and heart sent her frail and fevered body into a long chorus of throat slicing coughs. Her body trembled and shuddered in protest, a wave of sweat drooling down her burning face and neck, as her whole body seemed to move beneath the weight of each cough. She let out a pained whimper when the coughing fit had finally subsided, leaning weakly against the wooden post beside her, her body barely strong enough to keep her from completely face planting on the teetering ground beneath her.

"Allison, they can wait. Come on and skate with me. We still have a score to settle."

Lorelei groaned in frustration, desperately shaking her head, in the most pathetic of ways, to shoo away the numbing fog that began to build around her vision once more.

"No, no," she pleaded, her voice hoarse and rugged from hours of coughing.

Not this again.

She didn't want the hallucinations.

Time passed differently in this field of fog that came with the strange appearances. A moment staring vaguely into the swirl of images far away became an hour in the real world, sapping away time that was too precious to waste.

And it was so tempting to stay and listen. The sweet, honey like voices left her in a watery numb from the virus that scorched mercilessly with a fiery pain along her muscles. Their voices were so carefree and their invites all too rewarding. The darkness that waited patiently for her kept holding out its hands to her, beckoning her closer to a long awaited rest.

"Why fight it, Allison? You've earned some time for yourself. You've spent your whole life doing for others. Go ahead and put your wants first. You've earned it."

Her grey irises were pulled tiredly up to a splash of color that suddenly erupted before her, a contortion of shapes molding inches from her face.

An empty and silent, heart-wrenching sob clawed like an iron rake across her lungs, floods of tears rushing out over her mask and down her face as strokes of black, tan, green and blue began to form the ghost from her past.

"Come on, Pige. The ice is perfect! I'll get the sticks, you get the skates."

No.

No.

No.

It can't be.

"Don't tell Mom I didn't finish my math yet. She'll hide the puck again, and you know how long it took us to find it last time."

She watched as brilliant, green irises swirled into clarity, atop of freckled cheeks and resting underneath strands of jet black hair, blowing along with a familiar navy jersey to the beat of an inexistent breeze. Dark pupils bore into hers.

"Come on, Pige. PLEASE. I'll even go easy on yah in the face-off. Scout's honor."

He seemed so real.

She could've sworn she felt his breath scratching at her cheeks.

She knew he was gone.

There was no way he was coming back.

But even if it was for just a moment…

 

* * *

 

 

The factory sat off in the seclusion of a densely covered hillside, tall dry trees barely hiding its rooftop from ground view. Dim light poured from the bottom its rusted down sides, reaching out to the depths of humid night, buffeted sound trickling out into the moonlight.

A chorus of drunk laughs and blasphemes erupted in the poorly insulated plant, a resolute clang of slowly emptying beer bottles following. A haphazard line of metal tables and wooden crates were heavily decorated with haz mat suits and empty viles, some shattered on the floor in response to the alcohol induced craze the burly group of men were in, garbed with heavy linings of facial hair and weathered tattoos.

A solitude man stood atop a raised level, peering with an intoxicated smile on the group of men below, gold tooth and partially balding head glittering obnoxiously in the overhead fluorescents and beer belly poking ruthlessly against a rather small sleeveless top and blazer.

His stubby, far-from-sober limbs suddenly went stock still, a deep, scratchy chuckle resonating behind him. "The rumors are true. You look a hellava lot better in the magazines."

He quickly spun around, like a deer caught in the headlights, as he peered into the white eye slits of an all-too familiar cowl. The burly man gaped at the mutant, stuttering in shaky fear.

"Wo…Wol…Wolv…"

"Wolverine, yeah. Look, Beast. He knows us," the X-Men leader toyed, his cheeky smile only growing wider as said furry mutant made a dramatic landing beside him, the CEO dropping to the ground with a terrified thud, pressing himself hard against the level's railing.

He vaguely turned behind him to hear the gasps of his men, Wolverine watching smugly as Storm descended theatrically down towards the ground, smoke prowling out across the floor as flickers of lightning danced around her eyes.

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or my favorite, the hard way," Wolverine taunted, leaning comically with arms crossed to watch as the man's eyes widened. "You give us the antidote along with the factory, and we'll hand you over to the authorities. If you don't comply…well…like I said, it's my favorite part," he replied cockily, brashly cracking his knuckles as Beast let out a deep-seated growl along with a clap or two of provided thunder from their weather witch.

Their confident faces suddenly fell at the unnerving sound of Argo's rich, haughty laughter, eyes closed and head tilted amusedly back. They watched as his chortle spree calmed down as he turned back to the somewhat confused Wolverine and Beast. "You really think you've won, don't you? That we're like…the top dog? That you've solved the riddle?" he asked, a bemused smile stretching across his scratchy face.

"We're just foot soldiers in this system. We're not kings, or knights, or castles, hell we're not even horses. We're pawns. Used when needed and trashed when spent," he replied.

Wolverine grumbled frustratingly, quickly grabbing Argo by the collar of his worn-out shirt and dangling him feet from the ground. "I don't suppose we get to know that name of the king," he growled.

Argo's smug only grew wider. "Sorry, no spoilers. But know this; he's comin' for you, mutants. All of this," he replied, gesturing to the factory around him, "was all for you guys. This is all a part of his big plan!" he replied proudly, the X-Men's stomachs twisting collectively at Argo's foreboding message, Wolverine's previous statement playing over in their minds.

Something else is at play here.

Wolverine growled and gave the CEO a hard shake. "You put innocent lives at stake all for some stupid game!?" he exclaimed.

"Game?! No, Wolverine. This was a sneak preview of the glorious new revolution that is about to ensue," Wolverine watching curiously as the CEO's tongue began to dance widely inside his mouth, white eye slits of his cowl widening in realization at the sight of small white pill between Argo's teeth. "The antidote's over there," he replied, chewing forcibly down on the pill, Wolverine watching with mixed emotions as white foam began to drool out from the corners of Argo's mouth. "Go ahead. Save the tribes. But fair warning, there's a movement brewing. Something no one's ever dreamed of. And there's gonna be no antidote for that," he gurgled, his eyes rolling back into his head as his neck gave out and his head lolled to the side, Storm's panicked scream alerting the X-Men leader that Argo's men were gone as well.

A few, tangible moments of silence passed before Beast turned to his leader. "What do you think he meant by a new revolution?" he asked.

"I don't know, Hank. But we can worry about that later. We need to get back to Lorelei. Now."

 

* * *

 

 

"Come on, sis. You're already dying. Why fight it? Just let go."

Dying?

Was that what was happening?

Was the cloudy figure even telling the truth?

Even if he wasn't, he wasn't far from it.

She felt like she was dying.

She lost her sense of her body's workings, the sense that came with her healing abilities, hours ago, so what was truly happening across her muscles, bones and nerves wasn't something she could diagnose anymore. The sixth sense that she had that her nerve endings were being brutally attacked by the virus, that the alveoli in her left lung were working overtime to keep it from collapsing, that she was on the brink of clinical dehydration from the complete deprivation of fluids in her system and the muscle spasms she seemed to be experiencing, that her overproduction of sweat, dehydration, hallucinations and stiff neck were signaling a very dangerous fever that was ranging between 103° and 106° and that her body had been on the brink of shock.

She didn't know what was happening anymore, and the excruciating levels of pain that continually washed over her hinted that maybe, she didn't really want to know.

And as she lay on her back, the wood flooring beneath her feeling more and more like a jagged rock, eyes closed as another wave of pain raked across her body, she wondered if she should answer the voice that kept tickling at her ears.

Should she?

Would that mean she was giving in to the visions, that she was ready to die?

Was she ready to die?

Dying…

What was that like?

Was it dark and cold, or maybe warm and soft?

Did it hurt?

Did it feel empty?

Empty…

Like a jar.

Like those mason jars she used to catch fireflies in.

How long did fireflies live?

Did it hurt when they died?

How do they know?

Does their light just suddenly go out and they think "well, I guess I'm dying"?

Light…like her light.

Her pretty golden light.

But it wasn't pretty.

She paid a price for that light.

And before she knew it, the words trickled like numb snakes from her feverish mouth. "I could've saved you."

There was a heavy moment of silence.

Did she scare him away?

Did he leave?

She didn't want him to leave.

She didn't want to be alone if she died.

So she whispered it again, eyes blinking back tears of the shear pain that continued to burn throughout her body.

"I could've saved you."

A heavy intake of breath. A shift in the fog behind her eyelids.

"Why didn't you?" came the reply.

She let out a weak sob, her pained voice catching in her throat.

"I was scared…so scared," she whispered.

"So was I," he answered.

"It should've been me…You mattered more," she whispered, small splashes of black suddenly creeping into the foggy haze that laid over her closed eyes.

Another moment of silence.

"Well, now it's your turn, sis. Now you get a chance to die along with these people," he replied solemnly.

People?

What people?

She didn't remember any people.

Where were they?

Were they nearby?

But why were they dying?

Did they need help?

Could she help them?

Nearly doubling over in pain as she slowly pulled apart her eyelids, screaming as light pierced her eyes like sharpened knives, she slowly watched as colors came into focus, shapes taking forms of bodies circling her on every side.

And it all came crashing back to her, roaring like stormy waves on the beach.

The tribe.

The virus.

Her team.

How could she forget?

She struggled as she leaned against her bent elbow as she surveyed her surroundings, heavily breathing despite her screaming lung, listening to the chorus of weakened wheezes that clung to the air like glue.

"Just let them go, Pige," he replied sympathetically, his misty form coming to crouch beside her. "There's nothing you can do for them now. You're too weak. You've done all you can. Just rest."

No.

No.

She couldn't.

She needed to help them.

It was her job.

She gave a weak smile and turned to look up at him.

"Do you remember…what you told me…when I wanted to give up…piano? When I thought I'd be…too busy to…continue lessons?" she asked feebly, struggling futilely to fill her lungs with enough air.

He turned to her with a somewhat perplexed look. "Yeah…it was the Picasso quote my coach gave me. The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away," he replied, Lorelei watching as his own words slowly sunk into realization across his face, giving her a small, sad smile, his face suddenly taking on the look of a wise man, not the cheeky boy that had been playing around in her head before. This was the real him.

She smiled up at him through soft tears. "Well, this is my gift…my purpose in life. I got these…abilities for a…reason," she replied, placing a comforting hand over her left lung, already feeling the crushing sting of her struggling organ.

She slowly reached up and placed a hand on his misty cheek, releasing more tears as he leaned into her touch, his own fingers wrapping around hers. "All I've wanted is to…see you again…to play…with…you again…you… were my greatest friend…and that's never…going to change," she replied, biting back the pain that erupted in her moving body. "But my job…is to help…these people…it's my duty," she finished, looking deeply into his brilliant green eyes.

He gave her a small, sad smile. "I know, Pige. I know. You know I'm proud a' yah, right?" he asked, Lorelei sniffling at the sound of the all too familiar question.

"I know," she replied."Save me a seat in the clouds, alright? I'll be joining yah soon," she whispered.

He nodded solemnly, leaving in to kiss her on the forehead, splashes of mist and fog tickling where his lips pressed against her skin. "I'll even save yah a stick. But I can't promise you leniency in the face-off," he replied, leaning back to look at her.

She gave a small wheeze of laugh in reply.

"I wouldn't expect…anything less."

And with a wind too forceful to belong to the Serengeti Tribes, his smoky body blew away like weak fog, leaving her alone.

She took another sweeping glance of the large hut.

He wasn't wrong.

She was too weak.

She was completely spent.

She had no energy left.

It's your duty.

No.

She was not giving up.

With a loud scream, she lifted her spent, madly trembling body into a standing position, yelping in pain as she let her muscle fibers settle back into place and her seesawing world back on its steady feet. Her vision blurred immensely, the only thing distinguishable was the light that passed through the open doorway.

How was she going to heal all of these people?

She knew if she sat down and started just one…she would collapse and never wake up again, leaving hundreds to die, far beyond the help of any antidote her team could possibly return with.

She needed to heal all of them, the ones in the hut and outside it, all at once.

She could do it, right?

If she timed it right, planned it right, she could use every last energy in her body and send out a healing…what?

Blast, shot, wave…what?

She had never tried this before.

She healed with contact, with concentration.

Simply sending out a wave of healing energy had never been accomplished.

But she was going to try.

Taking one last, painful gulp of air, she trudged forward to the entryway, almost collapsing in pain as the light blinded her already fading vision. She limped painfully down the steps, black and purple spots dotting her hazy vision, her limping body swaying with exhaustion as she continued painstakingly slow to the center of the humid town, a large sandy breeze suddenly startling her.

She wearily lifted her head to see colored shapes nearing her, yelling out muffled words.

"Lorelei!"

"Munchkin, what's wrong?"

She weakly lifted her open palm to halt her teammates.

"Stay back. I've been infected. Just…just stay back," she slurred roughly, their replies falling deafly to her ringing ears.

She took a deep and haggard breath, her eyes falling closed as she honed in intensely to the small pieces of energy still residing within her.

This was it.

She could do this.

Or she would at least die trying.

She clutched her hand to her chest, feeling the energy within her heart reach out to cling to her hand, ready to be released.

With one last desperate cry, she shot her arm straight into the air, her fingers pulsing a light so bright, the X-Men cowered back, shielding their eyes, as circular rings rippled out from her hand, sending waves upon waves of pulsing, golden energy cascading over their heads and out towards the far reaches of the tribes, the power of which nearly shoved the X-Men back. Her body suddenly exploded in a flash of white light, her whole form aglow with radiant, golden energy. Sand whipped and whirled at the shear immensity of the waves' power, cascading the tribes in showers of dirt. Cloth and plant huts whipped and pulled.

Wolverine slowly released his arms from his face, slowly getting up to feel the waves and wind die down, the sand finally settling back on the ground. He turned to find the golden ripples slowly growing smaller and smaller, until they finally were sucked back into her fingers, the golden glow disappearing quickly to leave a heavily heaving girl.

Her tear soaked eyes lifted to the hazy, African sky above her.

"See yah soon, Kevin," she whispered hoarsely, her grey irises rolling back into her head as her virus ridden body finally collapsed and buckled to the ground, the X-Men leader quickly catching her frail and fevered form in his large arms and desperately calling over to his teammates.

 

* * *

 

 

"And the factory?"

"Storm shocked the electrical system and the place went up in smoke. Make it look like a short fuse," he replied through the ear pieces, looking out the cockpit window, hands stoically on his hips and cowl hanging loosely around his neck.

"What about the tribes?" Jean asked, Logan turning to watch the small form on the emergency medical table as he gave a small smile.

"The kid did it. She saved them all," he replied.

Jean gave a small, warm chuckle in reply. "Forge's computers about her being a Level 8 mutant are starting to sound less and less impossible by the day."

Wolverine hummed thoughtfully in response.

"Well, I gotta go help Forge and Scott prepare the decontamination units for when you guys come back. Let me know when her fever breaks," Jean replied.

Logan nodded to himself.

"Will do," listening as the line went dead.

He placed the ear piece back in his pocket, and made his way over to the medical table, quietly pulling out the stool from underneath to sit on.

He frowned sadly at the unnervingly still girl before him.

From mid back up rested on a large pillow, the lower rest of her body heavily garbed with thick, woolen blankets despite the deadly warm temperatures outside. Her forehead was hidden by a large, cool cloth, one Wolverine had been replacing every hour on the hour with a cool one, her nose now holding a breathing tube that wrapped lightly around her ears, replacing the breathing mask she had hours before, which had replaced the hauntingly thick tube of the life support machine Hank had used during surgery to help her collapsing lung. Colorful wires snaked out from the neckline of her garment, remembering seeing her half-naked chest as he had helped Hank place at least a dozen of heart and lung-monitoring patches all along her skin. Two IV's were imbedded in her right lower arm that lay parallel to her body, one for fluids, the other for the antidote. Her other arm lay across her chest, her index finger covered in a pulse monitor that continued to feed the X-Men leader a string of sluggish beeps to let him know she was still with them.

Partially.

Hank had warned it could take her a while to wake from the fever, if she ever did.

She had almost flat-lined during the surgery, and it took her 10 hours to be finally weaned off of the life support.

She was healing, but a little too slowly for Logan's liking.

He slowly reached out and wrapped a large hand around hers, pulse monitor and all, and gently squeezed it.

She had almost died.

She had given up her life without a second thought, an act of complete self-sacrificing he didn't even know he could commit when trouble hit the fan.

To think he had been so quick to lash out as her for keeping secrets, so quick to pass her off as an enemy.

He thought back to the days when the institute had been operational, the Professor welcoming kids from all over without a second thought, kids who had received abilities without help from anyone. Kitty, Kurt, Bobby, Forge, Rogue, Scott, Jean, Piotr, Evan, Sam, Amara, Roberto, Ray, Jamie, Jubilee, and all of the others were welcomed in with open arms, no one ever questioned of their past, or their intentions.

They were just kids, looking for help and acceptance.

Even with the previous incident involving Emma and Jean, why should he have assumed Lorelei was any different from any of the other students?

He watched, suddenly elated, as the fingers beneath his tentatively reached around and weakly squeezed his hand, her large eyelids slowly and painfully squinting until they slowly opened to reveal a hazy and faraway glance.

He watched closely as she let out a low moan as her tired eyes slowly glanced around to her left, up, and then to her right, where they fell upon her sitting leader.

Her voice came out scratchy and pained. "Logan?"

"Hey, Munchkin. I'm here," he replied softly, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"What…what happened?" she asked, wincing herself at the weakness of her voice.

He watched her intently. "What do you remember?" he asked carefully. Hank had warned him of possible memory loss.

He watched as she closed her eyes and squinted, as if willing herself to remember. "We…we were going to Africa…there was a virus…and then there was…Rajhiki…and the hall…and," her eyes suddenly flew open, looking frightened and worried, "the people!" she hoarsely exclaimed.

Before Wolverine knew what was happening, Lorelei had quickly collected herself and had begun to raise the upper half of her body off of the pillow, only to stop and let out a heart-wrenching yelp, her face contorting in vicious pain as her body shivered with waves of drug-lolled aches.

Wolverine was quickly on his feet, laying a steady but gentle hand on her forehead and chest as he gently forced her back down into a lying position, as she continued to seethe in pain, teeth clenched as strangled, raspy breaths couched and sputtered in her throat. 

"Hey, hey, it's ok Munchkin. You gotta stay in bed, though, ok? Hank's orders. You're still fightin' the virus. Most of its outta your system but there's still some left. Jus' rest and relax and you'll be scott free ina couple a' hours," he replied reassuringly, watching as Lorelei's muscles slowly relaxed beneath him.

"But the people," she asked, her voice still desperate, lost underneath her strangled gulps and exhales of breath, still adjusting to the breathing tube, "are they-"

"They're all ok. You healed all of them. Do you remember?" Wolverine asked, pulling the stool right up to the side of the bed as he sat down, hovering protectively over the table as he took both of Lorelei's hands in his. He felt her hands clench beneath his gloves.

"It's all kinda blurry...but I remember...the...hallucinations...and trying to think of a way to...save them," she slowly explained, Wolverine's heart clenching in sympathy for the young girl. Hank had estimated that by the extensiveness of the damage to her body that she had caught the virus shortly after they had left, meaning she had struggled with it for at least 7 hours.

He smiled down at her. "You did save them. You did good today, Munchkin. Really good. I'm proud a' yah."

She turned to him with glazed eyes and gave a small smile.

 

* * *

 

 

The weather witch threw her leader a smile as they both watched the Serengeti native approach the medical table.

"He wasn't going to let us leave without saying goodbye," she explained, watching as Rajhki studied the small girl as she slept steadily. "He thanks us all for our help and that today will be remembered and honored in the tribes as the day the queen and her friends saved the plains and their lives. They are immensely grateful," she explained.

Wolverine and Storm watched as Rajhiki placed a small, braided band around the young girl's small wrist, Ororo immediately recognizing it as a healing bracelet, and walked towards them, a large smile on his face.

Wolverine listened to the two natives converse before Rajhiki gave Storm a small, cloth bag and the X-Men leader a small bow of his head of thanks and humbleness before he made his way down the Blackbird's steps and back out to his tribe.

"What's in there?" Wolverine asked, nodding to the bag.

Storm smiled down at it. "Gifts for Lorelei from the tribes," she replied, walking over to said mutant and laying the bag by Lorelei's legs, the small girl curled up on her right side.

The weather witch reached over fondly and gently brushed the young girl's hair from her still quite warm forehead. Ororo retrieved the small water bowl from the side table, along with the wash cloth, and with great tenderness began slowly dabbing along the girl's burning face, signs of the almost completely flushed out virus, Logan sitting at the foot of the bed by Lorelei's feet.

"We greatly misjudged her, Logan. We believed her malicious, only to discover she has the purest of hearts. We over exaggerated secrets that in reality, are as dangerous as any of ours ," she whispered over to her leader, as to not disturb Lorelei.

He lightly patted the young healer's ankle by him. "Yeah, I know."


	6. Mind Gone Rogue

He watched the amber flames dance excitedly upon the dry, cedar logs, the large storm doors closed and locked shut after a bone chilling autumn breeze stormed through the room, disturbing the inhabitants. His large frame leaned comfortably against the edge of the large, cherry desk, the wood worn thoroughly from years of nostolgic use, as Wolverine turned with reminiscing eyes to the empty swivel chair behind it.

And the mentor who had once occupied it.

"So do we take this as a threat or with a grain of salt?"

Logan was pulled back to the conversation at hand, turning to the young Summers as he processed his previous question.

The weather witch released a meditative sigh from her calm and serene stance by the large fireplace, the flames dancing shadows across her face. "They wouldn't be the first group to make a threat against mutants," she replied, her voice laced with exhaustion as the moon climbed higher into the black sky.

The red-headed telepath shifted against the sofa and her partner. "We're sure it's not just a threat to the X-Men?" she asked, turning to look at Storm, fresh off the jet from Africa and riddled with jet lag, Jean and Cyclops equally tired from remaining in the Blackbird hangar to help thoroughly decontaminate and sterilize their team, and help Hank transport Lorelei off the jet and into one of their medical rooms.

Cyclops gave a small yawn, followed by a strained cough to cover it, and slipped his fingers beneath his ruby glasses to wipe at his stinging eyes. "You said he called it a revolution?" he clarified.

Storm nodded. "And referred to mutants as a whole," she added, coming to sit nimbly on the edge of the sofa chair's arm.

"So, then it's another dealer for a cure?" Jean asked, her voice laced with doubt.

"Gotta be. It would explain how Logan was downed with a back stocked reject remedy," Scott replied with a suppressed yawn, winding a strong arm around the telepath, the X-Men leader simply rolling his eyes at the young Summer's reference to the night he had first met the Shadow Healer.

"Then why target the plains? If they really wanted to make a statement against mutants, why go for a small, unknown tribe in Africa? It just doesn't add up," Jean added.

Logan hummed thoughtfully in response. "That's if this movement is really an act against mutants," the X-Men leader replied.

All heads turned to the sudden sound of his voice, having simply been a silent form in the room since the beginning of the discussion. Though it had been him that had called the adults of the group together soon after returning home, he had offered no comment up until this point.

"You think there's another side to it?" Jean asked.

Logan nodded. "If they really were anti-mutant, they would'a tried to make a direct hit to our forces with front row seats for the public, which judging from their pretty shitty operations, wasn't their motive. If they wanted us outta the picture, they would'a ensured it was us who contracted the virus. But the fact that he willingly handed over the antidote in the end...gets me thinking that they weren't trying to make a typical statement against us. No...they were passing on a warning."

Cyclops sat straighter in his seat. "A warning about what?"

"That we're going to have ta choose sides. He was letting us know that there's nothing we can do to stop whatever's about to happen, and that we have to choose which side of this fight we're standing on," he replied.

"But we don't even know what kind of fight this is," Scott commented.

"Or what the sides are," Ororo added.

"We'll know it when it happens," Logan replied.

The four X-Men lapsed into a shuddering silence, brains processing their new threat, their new, unspoken missions at hand. Jean was the first to break the silence.

"So what now?"

"We start with what's happened so far. We've had a free-roaming Sentinel and two Prowlers, a rejected Cure that's still out on the streets and a virus released under the assumption that all were apart of an anti-mutant group, yet none seemed to stray from attacking us, except the Prowler's mishap with the bystanders," Logan started.

"So Trask, Argo and Kelly are in cahoots?" Scott pondered.

"I want you guys tah do some digging. Scott, I want you on clean up duty. Anything that's happening in response tah the Sentinel and virus outbreak, I want y'all over it. Jean, I need you to look into Argo and Trask. There's gotta be a connection between the two other than business relations. Where they went to college, where they grew up; everything. And if Kelly factors into any of this, pull that too. Ororo, I need yah to investigate any political groups or organizations that have popped up recently having anything to do with mutants. Pro, anti, neutral; grab it all. Beast and I'll handle sweeping both labs and factories, make sure there's no more virus or faulty machinery looking to make another guest appearance," Logan instructed his team.

 

* * *

 

 

She listened to the quiet town around her slow down for the night, paper lantern lines strewn across the streets slowly waking up and casting a pale glow down on the night walkers. A small band began off in the distance, an out of tune guitar and rickety drum carrying a whiskey-like melody along the warm air, causing her to lean pleasantly drowsily back in her chair as she relished in the warm mood around her.

She crossed on leg casually over the other and peered once more at the newspaper in her hand, a tall glass of lemonade beside her and a small backpack by her foot.

Her eyes glazed over to an article taking up the right side of page, discussing the new popularity of the newly rebooted Genosha. It discussed Wanda Maximoff's plans for the new mutant safe haven, all at the same time outlandishly criticizing the existence of a separate society and government on the secluded island, all the while out maneuvering the MRD and the Registration Act.

The young woman chuckled to herself, deep brown eyes rolling beneath her few strands of ghost white hair.

It was easy to tell the public was on edge, now more than ever. After the Phoenix attack in New York and Magneto's treason against Genosha, it shone a light on not only how powerful the mutant force had grown , but also how influential it had become within human society.

And it proved to people like Senator Kelly how hard it would be to fully eradicate them.

"Ah, the excitement continues, non? Even wit'out Magneto, de world continues the turn."

The woman quickly jerked in surprise, dropping the newspaper and spilling her drink all along the table, turning to the stranger beside her, her eyes crossed in agitation at the thief beside her, a sparkling queen of heart dancing along his nimble fingers.

"Gambit!? What the hell-"

"Come now, mon cherie, le's nat' ruin de peace of de night, oui? I's beena long time since I been out in de swamps," he mused, putting a finger to her lips with a devilish smirk.

She quickly swiped it away and glared at the renowned thief.

"I am NOT in tha mood fer games, Gambit," she scowled, roughly sliding the lemonade puddle off the table with her gloved hand onto the cobblestone beneath her feet.

"Gambit? Non, cherie, you may call me Remy," he cooned, gently taking her hand and kissing the top of her leathered knuckles. "Do I have de pleasure of your's?" he asked.

She simply continued to scowl at him in silence, swiping her hand out of his grasp and making a dramatic show of wiping it clean.

"Please, cherie. Such a jolie fille 'as a name much prettier t'an de Rogue, non?" he asked playfully.

"Whadya wan'?" Rogue asked, arms crossed, watching the criminal warily.

The Cajun huffed in defeat. "Fine. I've been lookin' for yah," he started, his voice dropping to a serious tone as he leaned in confidentially to the young Southerner. "I wan' in."

She rolled her eyes in impatience. "In on what?" she asked, annoyed.

"I know you're hitchin' your way back te New York," he replied.

Rogue's fist slammed down hard with the small, copper table as she glared at the Cajun thief.

"Where d'ya hear this?!" she demanded. "Have you or one 'er yer goons been followin' me!?"

The Cajun scoffed at the young woman before him. "Goons? Please, cherie, I pride myself in de company of de finest," he replied.

When the Cajun realized the homegrown New Orleans girl before him wasn't planning on laughing, Remy LeBeau sighed once again in defeat. "Please, cherie. You all alone. I hear tru' de grapevine t'at yah blue sniper friend ditched yah for an assassination gig, the rock rumbler left soon after', and dumb and dumber are said te 'ave started a search party for our favorit' speedster and his dearest daddy," Gambit replied. "Yah headin' back home."

"And with the resources yah have, wahy in the world would you wanna hitch a ride with me?" she asked.

 

* * *

 

 

He peered with a crooked smile over at his teammate, her drooping eyelids pleading for more rest. "You know, I can tell you what you need to know. All you have to do is ask."

The large, blue mutant turned to her from his work, the stethoscope still settled in his ears, eyebrows raised in amusement. He released a deep, gentle chuckle, as he continued to hold the bell of the stethoscope to the girl's small wrist, observing his watch and the scale on the blood pressure pump, as he continued to methodically squeeze the pump.

"Just to have you lie about your condition just to be released? Hhmmmppphhh. I was not born yesterday, Miss Harlow," Beast replied, a smart, cheeky smile on his face.

After humming thoughtfully to himself, he gently removed the blood pressure cuff and laid Lorelei's arm back down beside her.

"Me? Lie? I'm offeneded," the young girl replied in mock hurt.

Beast released another baritone chuckle, turning to the young girl on the medical table with a weathered smile. It had been a while since he had seen a teenager's bright, innocent smile running around the mansion. After high school had ended and they had turned 18, most of the Xavier students had left for a more promising future then helping around the mansion, the rest who stayed behind eventually disappearing after the Phoenix release. Only Kitty, Bobby and Kurt had resurface and returned, and even then he could see in their eyes that he was no longer their teacher, their advocate. They were equals, teammates. He wasn't Mr. McCoy any more.

He was Hank.

He was Beast.

As much as he commended the young X-Men for their growth into astounding adults, Jean and Scott as well, he truly missed the days when he was popping in their rooms to help them with mathematics in the late evenings, or holding lessons on the weekends for either the struggling students or novice mutants. Being as almost a teacher, an advocate in their eyes rekindled that spirit he possessed while teaching all those years ago.

And now here was a young girl once again, staring at the large world with equally large eyes, just as excitedly native about the life ahead of her. And yet here, she was already getting a taste of the cruel, menacing world the X-Men dwelled within. Watching his leader carrying her lifeless body onto the Blackbird was one of the worst moments of his life he had to experience. They were a collective few, and this certainly belonged among them. Here, she was forced to make decisions and deal with their consequences, decisions someone of her youthful age should never, in their wildest nightmares, ever have to make that call to give their life as painfully as she did. 

Later scans showed Beast that she had pulled every last ounce of energy she had to heal the Serengeti tribes, the exhaustion of that feat pulling all other strength she had focused on fighting against her ailments. 

She was 17 and had already willingly given her life for villages of people she did not know, on top of all other struggles she had faced while alone on the streets. 

Beast roused himself form his thoughts and turned back to the young girl with a cheeky smile. "Right. So your little rooftop escapade last night was just what? A sleep-walk?"

Lorelei tried to suppress a giggle. "I needed some fresh air."

Beast let out a heavy sigh as he nodded to his patient, the experienced healer understanding his unspoken wish and began unbuttoning the top of her cotton top.

"Honestly, Lorelei, of all people, I would hope at least you would understand the dangers of not taking it gentle and slow after a lung collapse. A complete lung collapse, I may add," Beast replied, looping the sthetoscope buds back in his ears and resting the cool bell along the side of her chest.

"Breathe deeply," he gently instructed, frowning with concern when Lorelei's breath made a noticeable hitch when her chest expanded, her face wincing, a small dry cough echoing in her throat.

He laced his large, furry fingers around her upper arm in a comforting gesture as he moved the bell to the middle of her chest.

"Again," Hank instructed, noting the painful hesitation Lorelei took before taking another large, shuttering breath, noticeable beads of sweat forming along the rim of her hairline as she weakly moaned through another round of coughs.

Beast repeated the process a few more times, ever so gently leaning Lorelei on her side to listen to her lungs from her backside, gently rubbing his thumb on her arm as she battled through the evident pain.

"Chest aches, it looks like?" he lightly commented, ever so gently guiding Lorelei back on her back once more.

"I still can't completely fill my lung to full capacity, but its improving," she replied, her glittering smile falling away to a serious look, eyes fixed in concentration as she honed in on her body's workings.

"Your entire systems are improving, Lorelei. Your fever has reduced considerably over the past 24 hours. Your heart rate is improving, which given that it had been low enough to put your body into shock, is an incredible step up. Although I'd like to keep the breathing tube in your chest for another day to filter out any excess air lingering in your lung cavities, your recovery is progressing smoothly," Beast commented. "It would seem that you are on the mends."

"Don't tell 'er that or finding 'er on the roof 'ill be the least of our problems."

"Logan," Lorelei greeted, watching as the raven haired leader snuck out from around the door frame, hands scrunched leisurely in his denim pockets.

"Hey there, Munchkin," he replied, watching as the young girl slowly gathered herself in a sitting position, his eyes catching movement as her hand flew immediately to her side, a small wince spreading across her face. He chuckled at her innocent pride.

Lorelei turned to look at both adults, an eager smile on her face. "So, we have a date for my release into the danger room?" she asked.

Logan held his hands up, chuckling to himself. "Slow down, kid. Your release date and tha day I let yah back into the danger room or back out 'n the field are two completely different times."

Hank turned back to her with a more serious tone. "A complete lung collapse is something that has to be closely monitored, as I assume you already know. The chances of it reoccurring, especially with the weakened state your body's in, are extremely high. Sure, the virus may be completely flushed out of your system, but you are still recovering. And your little venture up the fire escape helped it in no way. What you need to do now is get lots of rest so your body can recuperate," he instructed.

"Which Hank n' I'll start letting you do now," Logan replied, already ushering his furry teammate out of the room as he reached for the door.

"Hold on."

The two X-Men turned back to the small girl.

"I actually wanted to ask the team as a whole, but I guess I can just present the idea to the two of you," she added. Beast and Wolverine glancing at each other before turning back to Lorelei.

"What's up, Munchkin?" Logan asked.

"After Senator Kelly passed the new bill the other day regarding mutant tests in college applications, I realized that my education will never rise from the public school system. That getting any type of degree is now out of the question."

Hank and Logan shared another curious glance before turning back to her.

"The least I could obtain, at this point, would be a high school diploma, which I don't even have at this moment," she continued.

Logan's eyes scrunched with confusion. 'What are yah getting' at, Munchkin?"

"I want to go back to school," she replied.

"What?!" Hank gasped.

"Munchkin, with everything that's been happening, I don't know if going back to school is the smartest idea," Logan replied.

"Kurt, Bobby, Kitty, Jean and Scott all attended public high school," Lorelei responded.

"Yeah, whata walk through the park _that_  was," Logan grumbled.

"You also have to realize, Lorelei, that many things have changed since then," Hank added.

"But I could also be helping you out. The X-Men, first and foremost, was an institution that prided itself in helping young mutants with their abilities. Ever since you guys fell off the grid, there have been thousands of young mutants struggling to remain undetected within society. But imagine if I could help them. I realize I'd only be limited to the mutants of one school, but the less problem's Salem's school is having with mutants, the less attention it would draw to the school system and mutants, including the Senator's," Lorelei added.

"Lorelei, you've missed serval years of education and you can't even use your own name. How do you plan on simply starting up school as if nothing has changed," Hank argued.

"You did it for Kurt," Lorelei challenged.

"Yes, but we had resources and contacts in high places during that time. The connections we used to have with important people have either been severed or we've lost touch. I can't imagine us being able to simply call them up once more," Hank replied.

"The mansion's also been under previous suspicion of housing mutants. If we put you back into school with the connection to the institute, that'd be puttin' us in the radar again. And with all that's been going on, we can't afford that kind of attention right now," Logan added, hands on hips.

"What if I wasn't connected to the mansion?" Lorelei asked.

"That would mean we would need credibility and proof of the existence of not only a house but a family that you would hail from, which we have none of," Hank reasoned.

"Come on, I've seen what Forge and you can do, Beast. All I want to do is finish out my high school career; obtain some type of education. After that, I'm all yours. Im 100% for and with the X-Men," she pleaded.

 

* * *

 

 

She peered up at him, his gleaming eyes seemingly fixated on nothing yet everything around him. He walked with a nimbleness to him, that reminded her of the fluidness of his fingers when he would play around with his deck of cards. Everything about him seemed to slide and slither with ease, the air around them not able to touch him.

His hands hung lazily in his jacket pockets, the flap falling away from his side to occasionally flash the young Southerner a glance at his trusty fighting rod clipped to his hip.

"So how'd yah end up down here, anyway? Thought all yer business was up in the Big Apple?" she asked, still trying to comprehend the situation at hand.

She didn't trust him. In all honesty, who would? And with all of the crap she had been rolled along in in the span of a month, the last thing she needed was to be roped up in some heist with the Cajun flirt beside her.

With her hands still clasped behind her back, she discreetly began to pull the glove off her right hand.

"Like I say before, cherie, I was a' lookin' for you. I was in Tennessee, just poppin' in from casino to casino, workin' my magic a' course. Then I caught word dat one a' de X-Men with de gloves was headin' south. So I picked up my tings and followed," he responded.

"How'd yah know 'bout Dom and the others?" she asked.

"One a' my previous employers needed a favor. He had gotten de wrong mutants mad and needed a body guard of sorts. Dat's where I ran into Toad and Blob, and teir little gang they're puttin' together in search for Magneto and Quicksilver," he replied completely oblivious to the bare hand that was slowly inching its was up to his unprotected head, until it was too late.

Rogue lightly touched the top of his head with two fingers, the surprised Gambit grumbling in pain as Rogue's powers took effect, grappling his mind like a vice.

The Southerner calmly closed her eyes, expertly sifting through the thoughts and information that came barreling into her mind. She needed to know why he was really here.

She suddenly opened her eyes and turned perplexed over to the Cajun beside her, who was still complaining about the relatively painless mind siphoning she had conjured.

"Cherie, what was dat about!? You can't just go around stickin' yah fingers into every man's head!" he exclaimed, massaging the back of his head, only to turn back and find the young woman wearing a rather shocked expression.

"What? he asked.

"You...you're lookin' to join tha X-Men," she replied in astonishment. "And not to like, underhand us or somethin'. Yer genuinely lookin' to see if you can join them. Yer tired of stealing, of roaming from place to place for a job yah don't wanna do anymore."

The Cajun almost sighed in defeat, eyes dropping to the cobblestone.

"That's why you were lookin' fer me. Yah wanted tah come home with me," she replied.

And she could suddenly see in his gleaming eyes the feeling she had been battling with for weeks; lost. The temporary homes, temporary jobs, temporary teammates...it grinds like a cheese grater on the heart. Sure it seemed exhilarating at first, for the both of them, but now, it was just tiring and frustrating. Never able to depend on anything, even something as simple as a daily routine. Rogue wanted it back in her life, and Gambit was looking for a taste of what that was like.

Rogue smiled up at him and placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, causing him to peer down at her.

"Well then, let's get a move on. We got a train tah catch," she replied.

 

* * *

 

 

_Pidge...Pidge...I'm still waiting..._

_I thought you said you were coming._

_I thought you said we'd be together again._

_Why aren't you here?_

_You're supposed to be here._

_You're supposed to be dead._

_You should be dead._

_...dead_

_...dead_

_...dead_

She moaned as her eyes slowly opened, aroused by a noise outside of her dreamworld.

Should it even be called her dreamworld?

To her, it had just been a hell she was being dragged back to every time she slipped from the reality around her.

The healer slowly gathered herself up from the caging sheets around her, trying to chain her back down to the nightmares she deserved.

She turned slightly to her left, watching aimlessly as her storm doors continued to thud systematically against the wall from the rather strong autumn wind that was climbing ferociously through.

You should be dead.

It couldn't be truer.

How many times has she cheated death?

She heaved a heavy sigh and ran a trembling hand through her tangles of hair, letting a small yawn escape from her lips.

She needed sleep.

She was a healer. She knew that her body now was not up to full par all due to her lack of sleep.

But every time she closed her eyes...

...Kevin came back.

Images.

Memories.

All coming back with the speed and force of a bullet train, and she was the damsel in distress tied helplessly to the tracks.

He wouldn't let her sleep, wouldn't let her rest in peace knowing that she had promised to be with him again.

And the promise she had broken all of those years ago.

He was going to keep knocking on her brain, reminding her of every failure she had committed.

But most importantly, he was going to continually remind of her of all the misconceptions she had previously had of a family.

He was going to poke ruthlessly at her mind and nag incessantly in her ear, as he seemed to always have a knack for that all of this...

...all of the satin sheets, warm tea and biscuits, bubbling baths and sweet soaps...

...all of it was just a fairy tale.

Mansions with veranda's, tennis courts and an ocean view never lasted for long.

It was all going to blow away eventually like the lace curtains dancing beside her storm doors leading out to the black night.

The X-Men would find out who she truly is, construct a cleanly sheathed shovel and unearth the demons she had buried beneath her skin.

And they would leave her, pick her up and dump her back out onto the streets where she belonged.

And that thought alone made her body start madly trembling in gut-wrenching fear and anxiety. She almost wanted to vomit right there all over her beautiful blue sheets.

She felt her lungs suddenly struggling beneath the weight of fear, her rib bones constricting like a vice around her doughy organs and strangling them for all they were worth. Suddenly, her walls were closing in, her armoire inching closer to her.

She needed to get out of her room.

 

* * *

 

 

His senses were poised and ready, nose flared and claws sheathed, as he nimbly prowled down the dark hallway, every muscle fiber in every muscle strained and curled for attack.

His instincts burned once more, his ears picking up another ringing of glass, his eyes pealed for movement as he neared the steady blanket of light that streamed out for the kitchen.

He could hear the shift of weight as the legs of a stool scratched against the tile floor, the tendrils of flowery smell floating through the air, something deep within his instincts reminding him that he's smelled that shampoo before. And the detergent.

That was their detergent.

And as he neared, every scent he picked up slowly decreased his speeding heart and relaxed his on-edge nerves. His predatory hunch slowly straightened out until he was casually walking up to the door and taking in the sight before him.

"Hey, Munchkin."

Weary, grey eyes turned up to him, a small smile forming. Her hands were wrapped gingerly wrapped around a tall glass of milk, warm milk by the way her fingers were turning pink. Her hair was a mess of curls pulled loosely up t he top of her head, a large blanket wrapped over her shoulders.

She watched her leader as he walked slowly to the refrigerator, the blast of cold within hitting her like a wall as he grabbed a beer bottle from the lower shelf. He popped the top off with merely a flick of his finger, took a generous swig, and leaned casually against the fridge, his dog tags ringing finally ceasing against the flat of his bare chest.

"Whadya doin' up so late?" he asked, taking a small sip of beer. "You need to be getting' some rest."

She let out a long sigh. "I can't," she whispered, almost undetectable by the Wolverine's heightened sense of hearing.

"Somethin' up?" he asked, hovering close to the island separating the two X-Men.

Another sigh. "I'm just...I'm having trouble sleeping," she cautiously responded.

And Logan's interest was immediately piqued.

Her nightmares.

All he heard before drifting off to sleep was a frightened voice coming from her room, even during the day when he passed by her room to check on her.

She had them occasionally before at night, but ever since Africa, it seemed every time he had gone to check on her, she had either been having one or was walking one off. And it was easy to tell that the lack of sleep was taking its tool on her still relatively weak body.

Both Hank and Jean had noted to the leader of her condition, the red-headed telepath wanting desperately to go into Lorelei's mind herself and relieve whatever distress she was under, despite the young girl's heavily barricaded mind.

He slowly made his way around the table and pulled up a stool beside her, laying his bottle beside her glass of milk.

He peered down at her.

He was not good at this part.

Training kids was one thing.

Giving them emotional support, that was the Professor's end of the bargain.

Neither Logan nor Wolverine was a 'connecting' kind of guy.

First and foremost, he was a predator. he had the mind and heart of an animal; lone wolf. Never one to lead a pack or follow within one. He roamed where no soul ventured to go and relished in the dangers that kept the wild soul of his thirsting for more. Sure, he had become somewhat of a teacher for the kids of the institute in its earlier days, but he responded first to his animalistic nature for not only trouble, but solitude.

And for the first time in weeks, Logan's mind traveled back to Rogue, realizing it was his own needs for privacy that ultimately pushed the young girl away. Time and time again, she had been looking for support from someone who understood her, who didn't try or want to fit in with the others, and every time, she had gone looking for Logan. And almost every time, he was gone, off chasing down the wind and some dysfunctional memories.

He didn't know how to connect with Rogue, but deep down, he knew she truly didn't need him.

She liked the idea of befriending him, of having someone to relate to when she felt so out of place at the mansion. She enjoyed the idea of knowing there was something between them, a connection they shared as more of the outcasts of the institute.

But Logan knew, all those years teaching and helping her along with her powers, that there was one, important difference between the two.

While Logan chose to stand outside the pack, relished in it. Despite the solitude song Rogue seemed to beat to, she relished in the prospect of having a team, a family to relish and play with.

She didn't see it at the time. Simply hooked on the feeling of never needing anybody, Logan's attitude no doubt playing a role, Rogue wanted to believe she didn't want to be a part of the crowd.

That she could walk the path of least resistance alone.

And she made friends, made acquaintances that helped her grow as an individual, all without Logan.

And he was ok with that, he was proud of her.

But she still clung to this idea that it was still the two of them against the world, and when he decided to leave that day of the Phoenix Release, he had officially pushed her away, and she turned to the Brotherhood after that.

Even when she had returned, ready to assimilate back into the X-Men, Logan still knew he had lost her. She still needed to convince herself that she could go it alone. She had gotten a taste of raw freedom and was addicted to its short-living sweetness. Weeks after Jean's return, he walked into her room one morning to find her closet empty and a note on her bed saying "sorry" and "good-bye for now."

Lorelei was an entirely different case.

She had skipped on both sides of the river.

She had had a family. A normal one, full of birthday parties, camping trips, chocolate cookies and bedtime stories. She had grown up with a life.

And then she had grown, alone, on the streets of the city, with no longer a home or a family to call her own.

She and Rogue were complete opposites, sadly making the small girl before the X-Men leader just like him; they were so used to being on their own, so used to fending for themselves, that being a part of a team seemed almost foreign.

They had had a family, had been alone, and then suddenly life seemed to be teasing the both of them once more with the idea of a home.

He wasn't able to help Rogue because, despite her beliefs, that two of them were more different than they were alike.

Lorelei and him, thought, the gentle healer and wild beast, seemed to be of the same mold.

Troubled with the same curse.

And before the X-Men leader could stop the words from leaving his mouth, he turned back to the small girl beside him. "We would never leave yah."

She turned confused up to him, his eyes catching the bags beneath hers. "What?"

Logan sighed, slowly twisting the beer bottle in his hand in thought.

He had officially dug himself a hole.

"What I'm tryin' tah say is, X-Men don't abandon other X-Men. Once yer a part'a the group, yer with us 'till the end," he explained.

He watched as the rigid, fearful body beside him slowly began to melt and unravel, the extent of his words fully hitting her doubtful heart and the true power of exhaustion in her body slowly gathering tears in her eyes. It seemed to be those words that were her undoing, as her whole posture deflated, arms laying limply in her lap as the weight she was bearing on her shoulders came crashing down to the ground below.

"I know yah feel like yer powers have doomed yah from the begininin'. Every mutn' feels like that. And I know you've been along fer a while, and it's hard comin' back tah this. Tah a home. It's like a tease. But its not. I just wanna make sure yah know that bein' a member of this team isn't like some kinda temporary job. If yah got our backs just a little bit, we'll always have yers, no matter what. Yah don't just have a team standin' behind yah Lorelei, yah got a family, and they're never walkin' out on yah," he replied.

He turned back to her, smiling as he found her head and curled arms resting on the marble counter, her chest slowly rising and falling.

That's all she had needed to hear.

He knew that she wasn't fully convinced. Instincts and thoughts like those aren't just remedied over night, especially with his little speech.

Baby steps.

For now, she could get some sleep, chase whatever demons she needed to away, and recover.

Later though.

He was going to show her, going to help her, just as the Professor had helped him.

He was going to do for her as he was never able to for Rogue.

With strong, gentle hands, Logan slowly rested her body back in her chair, looped his large arms underneath her and carried her out of the kitchen.

And not a word was breathed to the other teammates of this rare moment, the mighty, lone wolf ever so gently carrying the young sleeping girl in his arms as he made his way down the dark halls to her bedroom.

 


	7. Fallen Angels

He tiptoed cautiously, a large, scheming smirk plastered right across his face. His body was crouched low to the ground, steps smooth and methodical.

He grew closer to the target, the hand hiding behind his back slowly incasing in ice as a small ball of flaky snow formed in his hand, tendrils of thin ice dancing around the air. He was nearly feet from the floating object, his hand now raised at head level, arm curved and poised ready for the perfect strike, when her soft voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Bobby, you throw that snowball and you'll find yourself eating stardust," she teased playfully, legs still criss-crossed in a seating position as her floating form turned to smile victoriously at the ice mutant.

"Ah, come on, Lorelei! How do you do that!?" he exclaimed, arms slumped by his side in defeat as their latest recruit stretched out her legs and landed gracefully on the ground, the once golden light dancing around her fading.

Lorelei couldn't help but chuckle. "For someone as smooth as ice, you're really not that great at stealth," she replied, Bobby turning in surprise as her golden light cascaded around the snowball in his hand and watched it levitate till it was spinning playfully inches above her dancing fingers.

"And tomorrow's the first day of November. New England doesn't need any incentives to start an early snow storm," Lorelei replied, Iceman watching with a pouting face as the golden color around his snowball began to intensify, the ice crystals melting down to water and then evaporating in a quick puff of fog.

"Logan just sent me up to let yah know he's taking Hank, Ororo and Forge on a few test drives with the 'newly improved' blackbird, or at least that's what Forge thinks," Bobby replied, the two younger mutants making their way out into the main hallway to the grand staircase.

He turned to the shorter girl beside him, noticing the confident stride and straighter posture, where not only hours before her sore chest had her back slightly curved and leaning in pain. "What were yah doing back there, anyway? You look good," he commented.

She turned up to him and smiled. "Meditation. A friend back in New York taught me. It really helps on concentrating and alleviating pain," she replied, her smile growing wider when the ice mutant threw her a bewildered look.

"So you're telling me that next time Logan dukes me out in the danger room, all I have to do is cross my legs, close my eyes and hum to myself and the bruises go away?" he replied smartly.

"There's a lot more to it than that, Bobby. But you have a healer now on the team. Next time Logan kicks your butt, I can help the little boo-boo's go away," Lorelei teased, batting her eyes and over-exaggerating a pouty lip.

"Hardy, hard hard," Bobby replied, though the young blonde couldn't help smiling along.

As the two made their way down the staircase, she couldn't help but peer around the empty mansion in confusion.

"Where is everybody?" she asked, turning to Bobby.

"With Jean and Scott in charge, it's like the old days. Order and discipline. Neither one knows how to let loose a little bit. But once their settled in with whatever marathon's on TV, Kitty and I are sneaking out to a Halloween bash down at a club in Midtown. She's in her room gettin' ready," he explained.

"Club, huh? And how are two 19 year olds going to do that?" she pointed out.

"Come on, Lorelei, we're X-Men. If there's anything we know how to do, it's print out fake ID's," Bobby replied, hands confidently on hips.

Lorelei whistled. "Wow, you guys are some of the worst crime-fighting heroes I've ever met," she commented.

Bobby simply shrugged. "We're good heroes. We're just pro-fun people too," he replied.

Lorelei chuckled. "So what about Kurt and Tildie?" she asked.

"Tildie's not big on Halloween. All the monster costumes and what not. Post traumatic stuff, I guess. She'll probably be joining Scott and Jean. Kurt, well that's anybody's guess. He's not big on leaving the house, so he'll probably just be moping along the ceilings," he replied.

"That's gotta be a little unhealthy, though, don't yah think? I mean, Tildie's pretty skittish and she still gets out and mingles with society, even if it is just a grocery run. Kurt never leaves. Never," Lorelei commented.

"Yah gotta feel for the guy, though. He can't go out on the street without someone pointing a finger, screaming and then calling up the MRD. And he takes it personally, too. Like something's really wrong with him," Bobby pointed out.

The ice mutant took a quick glance at his watch. "Crap, Kitty'll be ready by 9. I gotta get dressed," he exclaimed, quickly giving Lorelei's shoulder a small squeeze in farewell before sprinting back up the stairs to his room.

What was the infamous Nightcrawler doing tonight?

Now the Shadow Healer's interest was piqued.

It had been a rather long time since she had last shared a conversation with the teleporter and the healer suddenly found herself craving the blue mutant's presence.

There was something about him that kept the acrobatic German at the forefront of her mind, and kept it nestled there whenever she got a chance to think throughout the day. He was grabbing the strings of her mind and tugged, ever so gently, on them periodically.

For someone who rarely stepped out from the comfort of the shadows, at least around her, he spent a lot of time running through her mind.

She couldn't help but glance instinctively up at the nightly shadows that were growing out from the walls and furniture, searching for the night dweller.

"Kurt?" she called out in almost a whisper, almost expecting the fuzzy mutant to come leaping and bounding down from his perch on the ceiling or suddenly appearing before her. But when no movement nor sound was made, she made her way further down the staircase.

She turned down the small corridor to the large living room, stepping only a few feet through the open door way, peeking around the brightly lit room to find no sight of him. Little did she notice the teleporter hanging only by his tail from the opening's trim, until she turned to go back up the stairs, eliciting an ear-piercing shriek and stumbling back in fright.

Nightcrawler swiftly teleported beside her, carefully cradling her shoulders as she caught her breath.

"My gosh, Kurt, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she teased, though her hand clutched her chest.

Kurt gave a small smile. "Nein, Schatz. My apologeez," he replied, his face taking on a serious demeanor. "I heard you callink my name. Are you alright?"

She turned to face him, though he kept his hands on her shoulders, deep concern on his face as he studied her face for trouble. "Is eet ze virus? I know your lung and fever have been improving," he asked.

"No, it's not- wait, how do you know that? I haven't spoken to you since before the Sentinel attack," she asked.

Kurt's eyes widened as he gave a sheepish smile. "I vas just...ah...checking up every now and zhen. To make sure you vere alright, of course," he stuttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

The two sat in a few second silence, both teenagers observing the other, before Lorelei broke it. "Um, I was just wondering what you're up to tonight. It seems like everyone in this mansion is up to something but us," she commented.

"Vell, I'm heading out soon, too," Kurt replied, a small smile on his face.

Lorelei's eyes scrunched in confusion. Heading out? "Where?" she asked.

She watched as the nightcrawler gave another one of his famous sheepish, crooked smiles. "I, uh, I just valk zhe streets a little," he replied, his tail noticeably twitching uncomfortably.

The healer's face still bore a look of complete bewilderment. "I still don't get it."

She jumped as his three-fingered white glove slipped in her hand and pulled her closer toward him, tentatively looking up and locking onto his completely yellow eyes, her heart not only stuttering with uncertainty, but comfort.

"Then let me show you," he gently replied, giving no warning as the two suddenly vanished, leaving only a cloud of thick, sulfuric smoke in their wake.

 

* * *

 

 

The sidewalks were alive with lights and laughter, brightly colored costume lighting up the last night of October like lightning bugs, the large full moon above shedding a pale light to drive away the monstrous shadows.

She turned to look up at him, closely studying the young man. "So this is what you do every Halloween?" she asked.

He turned down to her with the largest smile, his face aglow with complete enjoyment. He nodded. "Zis eez ze only night ze MRD are not out prowling ze night. Ve all look like mutants. Ze two of us just blend right in," he explained.

And as Lorelei peered around to survey the trick-or-treaters surrounding them, she couldn't help but smile and discover Kurt was right, spotting amongst the little Captain America's and Hulk's, vampires and pirates, witches and princesses, a few yellow and blue Wolverine's, white-haired Storm's and the red-sunglassed Cyclops.

It made her smile at the idea that the X-Men were influencing as something so insignificant yet as powerful as a child's Halloween costume.

"To zem, ve are just dedicated fans," he pointed out, gesturing to both of their suits.

She peered obviously down at his excited tail, littering back and forth through the air. "A lot more than dedicated," she smarted, Kurt's smile only growing larger, and Lorelei couldn't help but smile along with him, the sheer happiness on his face making her heart soar.

"Zis eez ze only night vhere I blend in vith everyvone else," he replied, gesturing vaguely to the families precessing with them down the crowded sidewalks. "No vone's pointing fingers or calling ze autorities. Ve're all just out for ze goods!" he exclaimed joyously, holding up his rather full bag of candy by his side.

"That must get hard sometimes. Sitting inside while everyone else gets to go out," she replied, her lightened mood immediately dampening with the thought of her and Bobby's previous conversation.

And he takes it personally, too. Like something's really wrong with him.

"Nein, Schatz. I have grown up for too long in ze eyes of ze public. Out in ze real world, I am labeled before I am met, and at furst, it did not bozzer me. But zen, as I grew older, I became more frustrated, flipping and flying zhrough ze air, pretending to be somesing I vas not. As deeply as I vould love to talk amongst people and be seen as equal," he replied, staring fondly around at the laughing families and children, "I vould much razzer be myself, locked away from sight, zhan be someone else in ze spotlight."

And there he went astounding her all over again.

She was completely speechless.

Here, before her, stood a 20 year old who seemed to understand so much and so deeply about the world around him, that it seemed he knew much more than the people around him who actually existed outside on a day to day basis. It completely blew her away to not only see him so understanding...but so forgiving.

For years she had passed mutant after mutant on the streets of New York City, all but a few pointing their angry fingers at the non-mutants and chastising them for the hell they were going through, when the rest of the world was simply following the ways of nature; fearing something that one cannot truly understand.

Kurt understood that, and so much more.

Even his face, though always seeming to bear some type of smile, seemed to posses a weathered look of wisdom about it, as if he had lived a million years of a million lives, and remembered and learned all.

She slipped her small hand into his and lightly squeezed his bicep. "Well, if this is your only night out on the town, we gotta make this count," she said to him.

 

* * *

 

 

"Scott."

The red head couldn't help but smile when her high-school sweet heart continued his fixed gaze on the overhead screen completely oblivious to the world around him.

She giggled as she slipped her arm through his and snuggled up against his firm chest, Cyclops jumping in surprise. But seeing those familiar green eyes, the ones that had kept him grounded through the thickest of situations, he immediately relaxed and wrapped an arm around her.

"Scott, come on. Come and relax with me. The Adams Family is on tonight," she replied, lacing her fingers through his and lightly kissing the side of his head. She could feel his muscles very subtly tighten, a habit she had noticed he had formed over the years since they had first met.

"I can't, Jean. I still haven't found anything from the cites. Trask's old laboratories have been stripped clean. Nothing from his accounts suggest he's been purchasing anything crazy, and yet his supplier is over in Africa attacking a tribe only a few days after the Sentinel attack. None of this makes sense," he sighed, roughly rubbing as his forehead.

Jean only smiled and slid in front of him, looping her arms around his neck, leaning in and kissing him, feeling his muscles melt in release beneath her.

She pulled back and smiled up at him. "I remember the carefree Scott. The one who was ready for a party every once in a while and joking around with the team," she replied, running a gentle hand through his hair.

The Cyclops gave a small chuckle. "Well, the carefree Scott was also 18 and living it up in high school," he replied.

Jean hummed thoughtfully in response. "Yeah, but I kind of miss him. Sure, you still have his drill-sergeant like ways, but the carefree Scott was better acquainted with his team. He didn't just work with them, he was a friend to them," Jean replied. "When was the last time you hung out with Kurt? You two used to be as thick as thieves back in high school, cheering up the team when they needed to smile. You barely even talk to him any more. Or Bobby and Kitty. Or Hank and Ororo. We all used to be so close. Sure we've gotten older and we've changed a little, but we're still the same team. We're still the same family."

"We're not in a little school rival with the Brotherhood anymore. The world knows about us now. The guns have gotten bigger. The stakes are higher. There's no room for carefree Scott," Cyclops replied.

Jean hummed in response again. "If you ask me, with all that's been happening, I think it's now more than ever that your teammates need a friend more than a fighter," she answered.

 

* * *

 

 

"Ok, next one. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

The blue mutant comically rubbed at his chin, causing the healer beside him to laugh, the two of them sitting happily a top the tower of the Brooklyn bridge, as the onslaught of traffic below them continued to blare, the cool night hair tumbling around them.

"It vould have to be Burger Bombs," he finally replied.

Lorelei's face twisted in interest. "I'm sorry, what?" she laughed.

Kurt's smile only grew with excitement. "Vhen I first came to America in high school, Evan, a young mutant from zhe inshtitute, introduced me to a small restaurant down zhe shtreet, zhat sold zhese enormous burgers, vith so much grease and ketchup, and I couldn't get enough of zhem. Everyone zhought I had a problem," he replied.

"Well, that would be a very short life," Lorelei mused.

Kurt simply smiled at the thought, comfortably leaning back on his hands. "Yes, but eet vould be a vonderful life," he replied.

He quickly turned back to the girl beside him with excitement. "Now, eetz my turn," he replied. "Are you insane!?" 

"What?" Lorelei asked.

"I heard zrough zah vines zhat you vant to go back to school! Who in zhe right mind vould volunteer to go back to school, especially eef zere really is no point," he answered.

Lorelei shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I loved school when I was younger. I didn't get the chance to really relax and learn something new when I was out on the streets. I thought, if I have the opportunity now, why waste it?" she asked.

Kurt's demeanor immediately softened as her explanation drew a deeper question inside him, as he drew his knees up to his chin and hugged them, turning his head to the side to face his teammate. "Vhat vas it like...out zere...for all zat time?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Lorelei puffed her cheeks in a sigh, blowing a few stray strands of hair out of her face, leaning back on her hands, looking out across the expanse of water before them, her cape bellowing beside her ominously. "It was...hard at first. Really hard. My powers kind of came all at once...and hard. It took me a long time to finally find some control over them, and even then, they kind of had a mind of their own. I remember when I first kind of...settled into the city. My aura and anatomical sight kind of slammed into me one day, and I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack," she began, Kurt's mind suddenly burning with curiosity as to what those powers entailed.

"I was in a constant state of panic. I was suddenly reading everyone's emotions and vital signs. I knew who had terminal cancer, who was clinically depressed, who was looking to hurt people. I spent days just running up to random people and warning them of things they couldn't see were happening. I was in a constant state of panic that I would miss someone, that they'd die on my watch. Took me 6 days with no food and sleep to finally grapple my new ability and shut it off. But..."

"But vhat?" Kurt asked, his voice sober with sympathy.

"But there were times I kicked myself for learning how to control them, learn how to turn it off. Because in my mind, I believed that if I had the ability to save someone's life, I had the responsibility to do something about it. No matter how battered and run down my body would become," she replied.

Kurt wanted to shake his head in frustration, immediately stand up and scream out into the bellowing wind from the top of the bridge.

Here, he had been witness, a shadow on the wall, to the alienation Scott was putting Lorelei through, whether he ignored her morning greetings, or purposely shoved into her when he thought they were alone in the halls. Kurt had simply watched his old friend bully the young girl beside him, and he now couldn't help but look at himself with disgust for letting it continue. Here, he had trusted Scott to do the right thing, had believed in the idea that his old friend could do no wrong. He had looked up to him for so many years, that even watching him harass the young healer didn't seem like a sin in his eyes.

But now, all that blazed through Kurt was sheer anger and guilt.

For all the young Summer's had to do was ask her.

She wasn't hiding anything.

She wasn't avoiding any questions.

Scott had never bothered to ask.

She released a small breath into the cool night air, miniature in comparison to the tear-sodden, dense sigh that needed to be freed.

"Zhat's horrible," Kurt replied solemnly.

Lorelei turned to him with a small smile.

"But you went through the same thing too. In worse conditions, in my opinion," she replied.

Kurt's eyes widened slightly in thought. "Yes, but only for a few months at most. And I had my powers from the day I was born. Zhere vas nossing I had to learn, and if zhere vas, I learned vith za professor," he replied. "I had it much easier zhan you, Fraulein," he replied.

"Alright," Lorelei exclaimed, Kurt noting the strained exuberance and energy in her voice. "We're done moping about the past. It's gone, it's done. Right now we have a Halloween to celebrate!"

She jumped up from her seat, a large smile on her face as she turned to her companion. "Alright, what will we do next? I suggest a movie at a cute little theater in Queens, but we can also hit a graveyard in the Bronx, which is supposedly putting on a haunted play of sorts or we can..."

But the healer was never able to finish her sentence as a great force was slammed into the X-Men's side of the bridge, shaking the construction violently, sending Lorelei's footing right from underneath her and down to the freezing water below. Nightcrawler was on his feet in seconds, teleporting away and back within mere milliseconds. The smoke around them released to reveal two jumbled bodies, Nightcrawler's mangled around Lorelei's in his speedy teleport.

A small blush quickly rose to his cheeks at the realization of his right arm around her waist, and his left wrapped gently around her head, and quickly pulled back.

"I don't know if you know this, but I can fly," she replied, turning up to him with a smirk.

"I know, and you're velcome," he replied, an equally playful smirk on his face.

Lorelei's smile immediately dropped at the sudden outburst of screams and screeching tires below them. "What happened?" she asked, peering down over the edge of their tower, Kurt right behind her.

They spotted below them a sea of people consuming the middle half of the Brooklyn bridge, an unorganized mob abandoning cars and motorcycles as they seemed to stampede away from something out of sight to the two observing mutants. Suddenly, their attentions were drawn to the far left reach of the bridge, the squealing tires of a semi ringing in their ears. They watched as it's trailer, from the skidding momentum, detached from the truck and screeched in a sea of sparks to the other side of lanes, taking with it a group of smaller cars, the farthest one compacting slightly into the side rail before it was pushed violently over the side of the bridge towards the freezing water, another outside force shaking the bridge once more and causing the trailer to crush the remaining cars between it and the railing.

The two X-Men's minds were immediately at work.

"I'll grab the car," Lorelei yelled.

"I've got za trailer," Kurt replied, the nightcrawler disappearing in a puff of smoke and the healer diving right off the side to the river below.

The familiar golden light cascaded over Lorelei's form as she began thrusting energy behind her diving body, guiding it over to the falling car, hearing the panicked screams through the closed windows. She quickly shot out an arm, and with it a ray of telekinetic energy, covering the car in a blob of golden light and bringing it to a floating stop, feet above the water's surface.

Kurt appeared suddenly atop the trailer, and, on a all fours, closed his eyes in concentration and disappeared, taking with him the large trailer, leaving behind a large cloud of smoke, only to reappear on a small stretch of dirt down by the river, knees buckling as he took several large breaths before turning his eyes toward the bridge above and teleporting again. He reappeared atop the hood of the overturned truck, peering through the shattered window to find the driver wedged uncomfortably between a scrunched dashboard. Nightcrawler was gone once more, reappearing seconds later on the pavement beside truck, his hands looped under the driver's arms as he eased him gently onto the ground, just in time to spot his fellow teammate fly over the railing, with the car in tow, and set it gently on the ground.

Both X-Men were suddenly caught off guard as another earthquake-like force shook the bridge, sending the family within the previously falling car scrambling out and joining the mass stampede, heading towards the end of the bridge, and abandoned cars teetering over the bridge into the water, or crashing into each other. Kurt watched as his teammate was levitating from the ground once more in her glory of golden light, quickly flying over the side of the bridge once more to retrieve the falling cars.

The German acrobat turned helplessly around in circles, watching the chaos ensue, as screams erupted like deafening fireworks all around him. Cars continued to crash and slam into each other, some people trapped inside and others climbing desperately out windows as the ground continued to heave and dip like a shook blanket.

He turned to the sudden feeling of warmth beside him, the healer's emanating energy heating his skin.

"I don't know what's going on. It's like the entire thing is losing it's stability," she commented.

Kurt nodded in recognition, putting a finger to his ear and pressing the small inside button of his ear piece, a mouth piece mechanically crawling out across his face.

"Nightcrawler to base," he said, eyebrows raised with confusion when a static reply was given.

"Hello? Can anyvone here me?" he replied again, side stepping just in time to avoid a mother and her child barreling past towards the other end of the bridge, Lorelei grunting as a small crowd from an abandoned bus brushed by her, knocking into her in the process.

"No, please. Excuse _me_ ," she muttered in mock politeness, Nightcrawler wanting to chuckle in amusement if the weight of the situation at hand without the aid of his teammates wasn't bubbling like carbonated water in the pit of his stomach.

"Cyclops? Wolverine? Anybody?"

No reply.

"Vundebar," the young German muttered.

"So we're on our own?" Lorelei asked.

Nightcrawler sighed. "It vould appear zhat vay, yes," he replied.

"Excellent," the young healer quipped sarcastically, her arms suddenly shooting out with imbalance as a strip of pavement beneath took a drastic, steep teeter. "This bridge is like a seesaw," she complained, her body floating off the ground to avoid the rickety ground.

"But how?" Nightcrawler asked out loud.

His question was ominously answered as a horrible, metal-on-metal, screech echoed above the fog of screaming and yelling that had settled across the bridge. Both X-Men turned slowly behind them, eyes wide as they scanned the area.

"10 bucks says it's whatever made that noise," Lorelei replied, never turning her head from the direction of the noise.

Suddenly, the overhead bridge lights collectively fizzed and completely shut off, both X-Men looking around wildly in confusion, Kurt suddenly feeling Lorelei's hand grab his. It wasn't until he felt her other hand tentatively poke at his arm that he realized she could barely see anything. With his impeccable night vision, everything simply seemed a little hazier without the overhead street lights, but for Lorelei, its must have been deafeningly dark, the city a simple light in the distance.

"Great. It's Halloween and we just entered a total Goosebumps scenario," Lorelei replied, visibly twitching with uncomfortableness.

Suddenly, the healer felt the acrobat's muscle tense reflexively beneath her touch, turning up to see his ear tilted to the sky above, his face void of expression.

She startled when his arm muscle flexed harshly beneath her touch, and with a strength and speed she did not believe the young Nightcrawler possessed, he quickly called out her name, placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back, letting the opposite force launch him in the other direction.

Just as the young healer had processed what had happened, she looked up to find a blue and pink blur dive straight into the asphalt where she and Kurt had been standing, the collision creating a tidal wave of force that carried both X-Men off of their feet, Lorelei crashing through the windshield and into an SUV and Nightcrawler colliding with an unattended motorcycle hundreds of feet back.

The young, blue German moaned painfully as he gathered himself from the ground, pushing away the ringing in his ear and the dust of the debris settling in his lungs as he turned to survey the damage.

Nearly feet before him a jagged crater of asphalt had formed, large cracks spreading out like pieces of a spider web, all connecting to the center of the chaos, the smoke from which was finally dissipating, Nightcrawler yelping in pain as his head immediately began to scream as he squinted to get a better look.

Through blurred vision, the German X-Man watched as the dark form steadily rose from the ground, as if completely unaffected by the impact. And Nightcrawler's heart clenched and plunged straight down to his stomach as the hunched human form straightened, the shape of two wings exploding from their back.

"Lieber Herr, hilf uns," Nightcrawler muttered, watching as the form walked from the blanket of dust, the X-Man sitting helplessly on the ground before his former teammate, the jewel atop his forehead glowing like a stoplight amongst the cloud of darkness of the Brooklyn bridge.

"Varren," Nightcrawler whispered to himself, as if trying to convince himself this was actually happening.

And with no back up.

The blue teleporter could do nothing but sit, slack-jaw as his old friend walked casually closer and closer towards him, a cold stone expression plastered on his face, his white eyes void of expression.

"Varren, vhy are you doink zhis?" Nightcrawler asked, looking slightly passed to the white SUV and its broken windshield, seeing no sign of his teammate.

He turned back to the young Worthington. "You're goink to hurt so many people. Schtop zhis, Varren," he pleaded.

Back in the abandoned van, the young healer was slowly coming to on the leather back seat. Her eyes fluttered open as she shifted from her landing, cringing instinctively at the sound of glass scratching and crunching around her.

She slowly gathered herself into a sitting position, only to yelp out in pain, her hands flying to the left side of her chest, her lung spasming uncontrollably.

"No, no. Not now, you stupid thing," she grumbled to herself, moaning as she toughed through the attack and sat back up and crawled out the side where a door had once been. "Where's Beast to say 'I told you so,'" she quipped.

She slowly straightened up, ignoring the searing sting erupting along her side, and peered around, grumbling once more to herself at the complete blackness that had descended on the bridge.

"Alright. We could all use a little light around here," she commented.

She stretched out her hands, her fingers and palms soon encasing in a beautiful, glimmering gold, 8 orbs of gold suddenly materializing in a circle around her, completely illuminating her and her surroundings. With a quick, upward flick of her arm, the spheres went soaring up to the overhead streetlights, hovering just below the burnt out bulbs and casting a luminous golden glow on the bridge below.

She peered up to find a tall, blue and pink armored man looming menacingly over her fallen teammate, Lorelei immediately picking up on the teleporter's sprained wrist and bruised head, along with other minor scratches and scrapes, her eyes then drawn immediately to the stranger's large, metallic wings flushed wide from their back.

She loudly gulped as the figure, in response to her lighting, slowly turned to look back behind him, the healer catching sight of his ghostly white eyes locked dead on her.

Her stomach curled in on itself for good measure when the slightest smirk ghosted over his lips.

Kurt now turned his horrific stare to his teammate as Archangel turned his back to him to fully face Lorelei.

"Get back here, Varren. I'm not done vit you," Kurt shouted, desperately trying to draw his attention back, anxiousness racking his voice.

It didn't work.

Lorelei watched, frozen, as the still smirking man walked casually towards her, wings spread menacingly wide. But what had steeled her heart cold with ice, that dried her blood clean from her veins, was the eerie absence of color dancing like smoke around his frame. Where Kurt was completely oozing terrifyingly dark greens and reds, and she was no doubt tumbling with greens, the winged man before her bore no colors.

He was void of emotions.

But how was that possible?

It wasn't until she felt her skin prickle and the energy in her heart jump excitedly, that she finally realized the gem upon his head was blocking a mind from the outside world. The energy that leaped through the air and tickled her spine from that jewel was containing a mind and a soul within.

She was brought back from her thoughts as he issued a deep, almost silent chuckle. "The Shadow Healer. The hero of the streets of New York. Let's test that heroism."

And in the blink of an eye, both wings were flicked outward, sending a wave of sharpened, metallic blades soaring with expert precision.

Lorelei could only watch as each one sliced cleanly through a series of connecting cables on each side of the bridge. At first, his attempt almost seemed fruitless to the healer.

Until the predicament at hand came roaring back to her.

The crater in the asphalt.

The shaking bridge.

The now cut cables.

Her breath caught in her throat as the ground beneath her not only tilted forward, but a wave of terrified screams quickly ensued.

She whipped fearfully around to find the massive stampede of drivers and their passengers had not made it, in the grand scheme of things, relatively far down the bridge.

She felt immobile as she watched the ground surrounding the crater suddenly give out, tilting the entire ground beneath her to a sickening degree, see-sawing out of control.

She whipped back around to watch as, like waves on a sea, the large mass of people screamed out as they tumbled to the ground, slowly sliding down the tilted asphalt toward the sea.

"NO!" she screamed.

Kurt watched as her body enveloped in glittering gold, eyes blanketing over, as she shot out her arms, encasing the large slab of asphalt in a similar color, the ground suddenly halting and the massive waves of cries lessened somewhat in volume.

The young teleporter could only watch in awe as the young healer telekinetically held the large piece of bridge in place.

The Archangel only smirked even wider, as he continued closer to the healer and whipped back his wings once more, sending an army of blades at the remaining cables on the piece of asphalt, a loud screech of metal erupting through the crisp air, sending the panicking crowd into another frenzy, as they quickly struggled to their feet and continued to helplessly clamber over abandoned cars and trucks.

The healer widened her stance and scrunched her eyes as she strengthened her hold on the slab to keep it from plopping like a pebble into the river below, the telekinetic light growing even brighter.

Archangel continued closer to the unsuspecting healer. Nightcrawler frowned in determination and was suddenly gone with a puff of sulfuric smoke.

Milliseconds later, he teleported on the back of his old friend, arms wrapped tightly around Archangel's neck, Sinister's follower stumbling.

"Leave, Varren. I don't vant to hurt you," he commanded, yelping in surprise when Archangel quickly yanked at his tail, a weakness only the young Worthington had known, and threw him towards the bridge's side, Kurt quickly teleporting, landing in an unceremonious heap on the ground, feet before the guard rail.

Lorelei had barely looked up when Archangel swiftly grabbed and held her shoulders, sending his knee slamming straight into her stomach.

The healer's eyes went stock wide, a hoarse gasp escaping her lips as her telekinetic energy light flickered violently as she struggled to continue her concentration. Before she could catch up with his movements, Archangel's hand was incoming with a powerful right hook, catching her once more in her stomach, lifting her from the ground as she moaned in pain, the golden lights from her eyes quickly fading. Her legs trembled as her knees bent weakly inward, as her feet fell to the ground.

"Varren!"

The young Worthington whipped to his right, Nightcrawler standing, seething, before him.

"Didink your mozzer ever teach you eetz not nice to heet a girl," he growled, his fist connecting with his face with the speed of lightning, Angel flying and landing hard on the ground.

As Archangel was slowly peeling himself from the ground, Nightcrawler was already bounding to him, on all fours with fire in his eyes, leaping upon the fallen angel and teleporting the two with a puff of smoke.

The pair reappeared tens of feet above the bridge, Kurt standing atop Archangel's back, both hands locked around his wings. Using his force to his advantage, he kicked hard and sent his old friend spiraling downwards, Archangel colliding with the ground, sending it rocking on its already unstable axis, Lorelei eliciting a moan as she pushed even more energy into her telekinesis.

Nightcrawler suddenly appeared by her side.

"Sorry about zhat," he replied.

"...s'okay," she grumbled. "I should...probably tell you now...that...I can't hold this...for much longer."

"Once everyone's off ze bridge, zhen you can let eet go," he instructed, watching her slowly nodded her head.

"Sounds...good," she commented.

"If only it were that easy."

The pair looked up to see Archangel fly over and land ironically graceful on the asphalt.

"Sinister, I know you're in zhere! Are you too shcared to come fight your own battles?" Kurt called out, as if Nathaniel Essex was hidden within the fallen angel.

"My master says that in due time, Kurt Wagner, he will see you and your team again. Do not worry. As for you, Shadow Healer, my master wishes to extended his greetings. Such a powerful mutant has not graced humanity for quite some time. And as always he offers the both of you positions alongside him," he called back, his voice robotic and monotone, as if programmed.

Lorelei turned, wide golden-eyed, to the acrobat beside her as he elicited a deep-seated growl.

"And, vhat? Become a footman, just like you, Varren!?" Nightcrawler exclaimed. And with that, the German mutant was off, bounding ferociously toward Archangel.

Sinister's lackey stood poised and ready, watching with determination as his old friend leaped expertly from the ground straight for him, fists readied for attack. But at the last second, just as Nightcrawler's hand was about to connect with Archangel's face, he teleported, leaving Archangel sputtering in cloud of sulfuric smoke, giving Lorelei the impression that the young Worthington was unsuspecting to Kurt's plan.

But to her horror, he was far from it.

Just as Kurt nimbly and quietly reappeared behind Archangel, a victorious smile already on his lips, the former Angel smirked, as he whipped his wings around, dealing a fatal blow to the surprised Nightcrawler and sending his limp body slamming into the side of an unattended car, slowly peeling away from the heavily dented metal to fall, unconscious, to the ground.

"No," Lorelei whispered to herself.

Anger erupted within her stomach like hot, burning lava, consuming every functional, well-reasoned thought she had in her brain. She didn't know where it was coming from, all she knew was that her insides felt like boiling water, bubbles growing until they were ready to pop free. Her trembling hands, the ones seconds before had been shaking from the strain of holding up the piece of bridge, suddenly went stock still clenching into fists as they lowered by her side, her mind alone now taking on the feat of holding the slab high. Her bent, cowering form slowly straightened, her back now perfectly straight and poised. The glimmering, golden energy around her grew immensely, licks of it coiling and flickering out with tremendous power. Her golden eyes shone brighter, now wide eyed and attentive. And with the pace of a mind possessed, she hovered in the air and flew with the quickness and nimbleness of a hummingbird, until she was mere inches from the Archangel.

And just as the former X-Men turned to the whoosh of air behind him, the Shadow Healer, in all her radiant glory, raised her arm to her chest, her middle and index finger shut together as she closed her eyes. She opened them wide to the surprised face of the former Angel, and in one quick motion extended her two fingers to the glimmering gem upon his forehead.

An explosion ignited between the two, Lorelei remaining a solid, hovering pillar amongst billowing winds of dirt and debris, her hair and cape whipping violently, while Kurt remained felled by the side of the bridge, a familiar golden orb safely encircling him against the forceful shock wave.

When the dust had finally settled, the healer still maintaining her mental hold on the severed bridge, Lorelei glanced with mild surprise to see a still-standing Archangel, his back arched, his face covered by his hands, as he grumbled to himself.

Lorelei heart suddenly stopped cold as his eyes suddenly flew up, and she stared into brilliant blue irises.

The white was gone.

She watched, frozen, as small huffs of breath and a deep voice carried every time he open and shut his mouth, his hoarse voice finally catching with his brain, his pupils boring holes into hers.

"I...I...I can't..."

And just as quickly as it had left, the white hazy fell over this eyes once more, his mouth falling back in a straight line and his limbs growing steady once more.

He gave a short glance to the blue acrobat slowly coming to, before turning back to give a long stare to the Shadow Healer before he opened his wings and took off into the black sky, leaving behind a scene of chaos, no one the wiser to a solitary figure watching above from the bridge's tower, slinking back into the shadows, blue electricity dancing from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

He strode through the open doorway, taking on the scene before him with a mix of relief and amusement.

Before him laid the large meeting table, his two teammates occupying two neighboring seats, watching the light from the large, overhead screen illuminate their exhausted, and clearly worrisome faces.

The two had returned nearly minutes ago, Nightcrawler staying behind at the Brooklyn Bridge with the new recruit as she held the bridge up for the S.H.I.E.L.D teams to construct a temporary holding device until the bridge could be properly reconstructed, which to the public's dismay would take at least a week.

Kurt leaned heavily on his propped elbow on the table, his tail almost immobile along the floor as his hair flopped forward enough to hide his side profile from his leader, a thin blanket laced over his shoulders. Aside from his obvious signs of exhaustion, along with his extremely dressed down attire of grey sweatpants and a black t shirt, both of which Logan had not seen the young German wear in quite some time, the X-Men leader also noted the cold, water compress he was gingerly holding to the side of his head and the ace bandage wrapped around his other hand that laid against the table. Lorelei beside him almost hid beneath the immense size of her navy sweatshirt, Logan smirking upon realizing it was Kurt's NYPD sweatshirt, one arm limp in her lap, and the other laced protectively around her chest, in evident pain, looking completely wiped out.

As Wolverine continued further into the room, he watched as Kurt's tail swiftly climbed from the ground, like a charmed snake, hooked around the blanket and lifted it from his shoulders and laid it upon Lorelei's.

It took the healer a few seconds to catch up with the speed of reality, and she turned to the X-Man with a smile.

Wolverine chuckled cynically to himself and roughly cleared his throat, trying to hide his smirk when both younger X-Men fell completely stock still, their eyes wide with surprise and fear, watching as their leader came to stand before them at the head of the table.

Kurt, knowing the drill, aware that his leader only called teammates for private meetings in the sub-layer rooms when he had something to say without prying ears, went completely on the defensive. "Logan, zere vas nozzing ve could've done. Ve contacted you for assistance, ve made sure all ze public vas out of harm's vay. Ve contained ze situation as best ve could. Zere-"

"Kurt," Lorelei warned, lightly tapping her teammate's knee upon seeing the small smirk on their leader's face as the teleporter continued his argument.

"-vas nozzing else to do, but address ze problem. Ve-"

"Kurt," Lorelei warned a little louder, nearly shaking the young German's arm to grab his attention.

"Vhat?" he asked, turning down to her.

The healer simply nodded with her head to their leader, Kurt really glancing at Logan to find the former Weapon-X smiling and shaking his head in amusement.

It finally hit Kurt.

"Vait, you're not here to chew us out?" Nightcrawler asked.

Logan look up at him. "Nah, elf," he chuckled, the teleporter now looking upon his leader with complete confusion.

"I'm not here tah chew yah out. The two a' yah did good today. Yah handled the situation well. Minimal damage and you saved quite a few lives. Yah guys did alright in my book," he replied, arms crossed casually across his chest.

"I'm sorry, did I miss somezing?" Kurt asked, making a show of cleaning out his ears as he continued to hold a face of puzzlement.

"Why did you call us down here, then?" Lorelei asked, turning back to Wolverine.

"I need yah opinion," he replied.

Lorelei and Kurt then turned to each other with arched eyebrows of pure confusion, before turning back to their leader.

"On vhat?" Kurt asked.

They watched warily as their leader sighed and spread his arms out to lean against the table, now eye level with his teammates.

"Archangel, up until this point, has been our issue; our mess to clean up. Other than his obsession with Jean when she still had the Phoenix Force, he's stuck mainly to the shadows with Sinister and the rest of his whack job clan. After this whole incident on the bridge, S.H.I.E.L.D wants to take over from here," he explained.

"What?" Lorelei asked.

"Zhey can do zhat!?" Kurt exclaimed.

Wolverine gravely nodded. "I wanted to keep this fight on our soil, but S.H.I.E.L.D's convinced that he's now escalated to a city threat, rather than just an enemy of ours. I'm trying to fight them on this, keep Warren our issue, but I can't go up against S.H.I.E.L.D with no evidence to argue. I wanted you're input. See if he was, tonight, as dangerous as Fury's claimin," Logan asked, straightening up and folding his arms across his chest.

"He vas fine," Kurt immediately replied, almost daring his leader with his glare to question his opinion. But the former Weapon-X saw right through the trapeze artist's act.

"Come on, Elf. Be honest with me. We used tah be able tah handle Archangel. His rampage tonight was completely outta his MO. And when two a' my best can't handle him, I get worried," he sternly replied.

But Lorelei could feel the breaths of anger and determination billowing from the former acrobat beside her.

He wasn't swaying.

"He vas like he alvays eez. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't need to get involved," he replied sternly.

Wolverine sighed, knowing full well he wasn't going to be able to crack his former simple statements.

But they said enough.

Fury was right.

Archangel had lost whatever control he previously had.

"Kurt, I'm trying tah fight this too, trust me. But I can't go to Fury with an argument that Warren hasn't changed, with no proof. Yah gotta give me something, Kurt," Logan replied, Lorelei watching with intrigue as the smallest strings of desperation pooled from the former Weapon-X's chest.

But when Nightcrawler couldn't come up with a reply, simply continuing to stare hard into his leader's eyes, Wolverine sighed and turned to Lorelei.

"What'a bout you, Munchkin. Notice anything?" he asked.

Lorelei suddenly fell stiff and mute in her seat, feeling both sets of wary eyes trained tight on her for her response.

"I...I don't know. I was a little preoccupied with the bridge, so I didn't get a chance to study him," she stuttered.

Which was kind of the truth.

Logan simply nodded at her response.

"Alright. That's all, guys. Yah did good today. Go ahead and get some rest," he replied over his shoulder, the lone wolf already headed for the door and out into the empty corridor.

Lorelei turned to watch Kurt as he gently set the cold compress on the table and ran his un-bandaged hand through his long, blue locks.

"He's screwed," Kurt murmured. "he'll never make eet against S.H.I.E.L.D."

Lorelei sighed. "You saw him on the bridge today. Whoever your friend was, that's not him. Kurt, he was ready to end so many lives tonight if we'd not been there," she reminded him.

"He just vasn't zhinking schtraight," the blue mutant tiredly argued. "Ve can handle him. But now S.H.I.E.L.D's on ze job."

"But maybe that's what he needs, Kurt. S.H.I.E.L.D can probably help him a lot more than we can," she comforted, laying a hand on his closest shoulder.

He slowly turned his head to the side to look at her, his eyes heavy and exhaustion cut clean across his face.

"Are you kiddink me? S.H.I.E.L.D's goink to send out ze Avengers or any one of zere ozzer warriors to handle him. All zere goink to see is a dangerous mutant zhat vork's for Sinister. Zhey von't see Varren," he replied.

"Zhey don't know zhat he's in zhere, fighting for freedom," he replied grimly, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "He's just goink to be anozzer mission in zhere eyes. A zhreat to annihilate."

Lorelei felt the familiar twinge in the very far corner of her eyes, the familiar pin prick that made her stomach churn like the blender in the upstairs kitchen and her heart stop short.

She didn't want to see his feelings.

Especially not now.

He was so raw at that moment, his chest cut open, his heart glimmering in the overhead lights as it stuttered with confusion and fear at the sharp taste of air that grazed its sides.

She knew it was a fruitless battle, fighting against powers she had been trying to control for years, the best of the best teaching her their own strategies of taming the beast of the X-Gene, that shadow that continued to loom over her whenever she used her powers, a dark reminded that she was never in full control.

Like tonight.

And she watched guiltily as shades of deep blue and grey swirled tightly together in billows of smoke that sunk like chains to the ground below and continued to pool around the young German mutant.

"I saw it."

He turned his weary head to her in confusion.

"When our energies collided...I ended up cracking his gem and then, for a split second, I could see his eyes," she commented quietly, reveling in the memory of those deep, fearful blue eyes staring deep into her soul.

_"I...I...I...I can't."_

"They were filled with so much fear and desperation. And then they went back to white, as if nothing had ever happened. But he fought for that moment. He needed to pass on that he was still in there somewhere," she explained, looking up into he friend's eyes, waiting for his response like a life-line to pull her from the dark, sinking feeling that was clouding over her heart every time she thought back that pour helpless soul.

He knotted his brows with determination. "Ve have to get to him before S.H.I.E.L.D does," he stated.

 

* * *

 

 

"I engaged with the target, but there were...complications."

The darkened figure shifted from his lookout from the large skyscraper, looking out across to the river, where the Brooklyn Bridge stood, lit with red, blue and white lights, helicopters and a single S.H.I.E.L.D plane hovering overhead, his wings spread wide, letting the evening wind glide through its metal feathers.

"No matter. We gathered enough information for our employer," a voice echoed like a bass drum across his head.

Employer.

The fallen angel's mind toyed with the word for a few seconds, his mind trying to process it. He could feel the uncertainty that came with the word, but any confusion and uncertainty was immediately doused with the hot, liquid feel that always came from the contraption atop his head, like a continual river of warm honey that never let his mind dry up.

Never let it stray from the objective, the information at hand.

"And I'm willing to bet we will see her again very soon."

Archangel took that as a sign that his master no longer needed an update on the clean up of th area and turned from the scene.

"Our employer will be pleased, nonetheless with the success of our new protege. He performed efficiently today. All power along the bridge was severed and all communications were jammed."

"The operative has made it back to base already."

He could read his master like that.

He knew the kind of information he needed, the details he wanted and didn't want. He knew the swift, stealthy actions that he wanted dealt.

It helped, being able to predict his master's needs.

It meant the less he had to send that hot syrupy feel from the jewel and make his head feel light, empty and numb.

He didn't know why, but he was starting to hate it.

"Excellent. Mission accomplished, Archangel. You may return."

And as the former X-Man lifted off from the roof top and took to the black sky, he was surprised to find that beneath the fog, the heavy blanket over his mind, amongst the chains that kept it bound from roaming far from its master, there was single, clear thought that pierced through the honey like the most welcoming arrow shot through a cloth target.

She broke the control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vundebar: Wonderful
> 
> Lieber Herr, hilf uns: Dear Lord, help us.


	8. The Ol' Grind

She fiddled with the corners of the stark white, schedule roster, already soaked and wrinkled with sweat.

"You know, I can always just go back with you. I'm starting to like those Blackbird flying lessons you were talking about," she stuttered, already trying to get up from her seat on the old, worn hallway bench.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside her, the wood beneath her almost vibrating from the baritone vibrations.

"Don' tell me the Shadow Healer's afraid of a few teenagers."

She plopped in defeat back down on the bench, the legs squealing against the tile floor in protest, and turned up to her leader.

"Terrified," she admitted, letting out a small sigh as she leaned her head against the wall.

"Why didn't you argue against me? Hmm? I'm just a kid. What do I know? We say the darnedest things," she quipped, her eyes still focused on the ceiling above. 

Another suppressed, powerful chuckle, like the rumbling of a speeding train along old tracks. "Come on, Munchkin. You'll do fine," the former Weapon-X reassured, comfortably crossing one leg over the other and leaning an arm along the back of the seat.

The young healer turned to him with a dead-panned smirk. "What do you know? You never went to high school. Do you know how many hormone impulses are firing off in those classrooms?! Their hypothalamuses are in over-drive! Those are animals behind those doors, Logan," she nervously spat out.

She quickly got up from her seat, nervously wrapping her arms around her. "I was crazy for thinking I could just go back to school. I've been out of it for too long. What was I thinking!? You know what, it's all Hank's fault. He had me on so many medications, I wasn't even thinking straight. Let's just-"

"Lorelei."

The small healer looked up at Wolverine, his hands placed comfortingly on her shoulders as he looked down at the newest recruit.

"Hank spent a lot a' time digging up some ol' contacts and friends. He went through a lot a' trouble getting an identity set up for yah and a registration with the school. And d'you know what? He wouldn't have gone through all a' that if he didn't think you were ready," Logan explained.

Lorelei released a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging beneath Logan's large palms.

"I guess," she replied.

Logan removed his hands and comfortably set them in his pockets where they always seemed to like to rest, his leather jacket crinkling from the movement.

"You'll do fine, Munchkin," he reiterated, giving her a light pat on the back as he passed her, headed towards the exit.

"I'll be here tah pick yah up at the end of the day," he added, giving a quick wave as the main doors closed behind him.

And with that, her leader was pushing his way through the rotating doors and out to the parking lot where his sleek motorcycle idly waited.

She released an anxious breath and turned down to her schedule, still shaking in her wet grasp, the paper now sodden with nervous sweat.

Homeroom, Pre-Calculus, Literature and Composition, Jazz Band, Anatomy and Physiology, Childhood Education and Astrology.

Astrology.

That was a nice way to end the day.

Hank must've had some inkling when he was making up her registration forms.

She turned to the wall clock to her right, set above the rows of glass display cases, golden trophies and wooden plaques shining obnoxiously in their respective spotlights.

7:15.

Homeroom.

She sighed again.

6 hours and 55 minutes and she'd be home free.

That wasn't too long.

 

* * *

 

 

"See, there they go again!"

The young brunette looked up over the top of her magazine, watching as her teammate stood in the middle of the storm doors, his back to her as he peered down the hallway.

"Bobby, what are you on about now?" Kitty exclaimed, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her Vogue quiz.

"They're hidin' something from us, Kitty! Can't you see it!? Logan calls them altogether and then we don't see them for like, hours!" he exclaimed, arms raised over his head as he turned back to Shadowcat. "We're outta the loop!"

The young Pryde blew a loose bang out of her eyes as she turned with an annoyed glance at Iceman. "Bobby, do you know how dramatic you sound, right now?" she asked.

"Come on, Kitty! Just look! No one's said a word about the Sentinel, Africa or Archangel, and every time we bring it up, they shut us down! They're treatin' us like kids!" he cried out, plopping down on the arm of the sofa parallel from Kitty.

The brunette smirked. "Says the guy who fought me for the red cereal bowl this morning," she quipped.

"I'm serious, Kitty!" he exclaimed with exasperation.

They both turned to familiar sound of teleportation, Nightcrawler suddenly appearing behind Kitty's armchair.

"Well?" Bobby asked.

"Zhey headed down to zhe room beside zhe Professor. Zhey locked all of zhe doors, too," Kurt reported.

Kitty turned behind her with an incredulous look. "Don't tell me he's gotcha on this conspiracy theory too?" she complained, plopping her dog-tagged magazine on the side table.

Kurt came around and sat on the arm of the sofa beside Shadowcat, turning to look at the young Pryde.

"Come on, Kitty. You have to admit zhey are actink a little suspicious," he commented.

She turned to look at both her teammates. "...Sure," she admitted. "They've been kinda secretive. But come on! We just got Jean back, Archangel's officially lost it and the professor hasn't made contact in over a month. Everyone's just a little...edgy," she defended.

"Then explain this," Bobby replied, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a folded paper and handed it to Shadowcat.

"What's this?" she asked, unfolding the paper and sifting through the printed words.

"I stole one'a Forge's gadgets to record the history of the computer Kurt spotted Scott working at the other day. Get this! He's been erasing his tracks every time he walks away from the computer. Joke's on him, Forge's drive recorded every file, every cite he went on," Bobby explained.

Kitty scrunched her eyes in confusion as she read through the list. "He's been going through Senator Kelly, Richard Argo, Bolivar Trask, and Nathaniel Essex's personal files. He's also dug up evidence from the FBI's files on the clean up operations at Argo's facility in Africa and the Sentinel crash in the city," she replied.

"Zhere keeping somezing from us. And I bet you all of zhe pop tarts in zhe kitchen zhat zhat's vhat zhey're talkink about right now," Kurt added.

Bobby looked up with betrayed eyes to the young German. "Come on, dude. Why you gotta go and involve the pop tarts? What have they ever done to you?" Bobby asked, Kurt simply smirking at his teammate.

"But why? This doesn't make any sense. We're as just as a part of this team as any of them!" Kitty exclaimed.

"That's what we've been trying to figure out," Bobby said, nodding between himself and Nightcrawler.

 

* * *

 

 

She slouched forward to bang her head with frustration against the cool, metal locker, her eyes falling asleep to the pattern of white and grey tiled floor beneath her.

This easily was the worst day she had ever experienced.

And she had only been through the first 2 periods.

She wasn't even half way through the day.

Who was she kidding?

She couldn't do this.

She was still fumbling around the huge place like it was somehow similar to 7th grade, the last year of school she had before...

She couldn't do this.

Pre-Calculus, alone, stood as testament to that statement.

She had sat there, lost and opened-mouth, as her 53 year old teacher with a 7.5 % tilt of his lumbar section of his spine, a result of years of scoliosis, and the early stages of a malignant basal cell growing along his receding hairline droned on about...about...well at that moment the only word that was coming to her mind was cosine, and she doubted he spent the whole 50 minutes discussing...well whatever that was.

Literature and Composition was no better.

While she had been living on the streets of New York City, fighting against hunger and the elements for her life, the rest of her class had been enriching themselves with the works of Shakespeare, Lewis, Hemingway and a few others, the themes and ideas of which she was supposed to know.

The shining tiles below her, coupled with the incessant roar of young life around her made her want to throw up, her eyes burning with the urge to completely curl up into herself and cry.

She was a fool amongst geniuses.

She didn't belong there.

"Hey, Pete, do these make me look nerdier?"

The young healer turned behind her across the hallway to see two taller boys, both wearing heavy red and white jackets, 'Letterman' jackets she had overheard a girl calling them earlier. The red haired one, experiencing heart-burn from a sugary snack that was still churning in his stomach and just getting over a cold, waved his hands comically in the air, toying with a pair of black, wide rimmed glasses on his nose, while the brunet and tanned skin beside him, struggling with the affects of a rather mild hangover, chuckled almost cynically, keeping his hand out to a small, curly haired wiry kid who was trying to make a grab for the glasses, only to be shoved roughly back every time.

"Come on, Bruce. I need to get tah class. Can I just have my glasses back?" he pleaded, making a meager leap to the tall, burly football player, only to be roughly pushed back by Pete, Lorelei deduced, the small boy's lanky legs slipping out from underneath, landing him hard on the ground.

"Ah, come on, Mikey. Where's the fun it that?" he cooed.

The lanky kid suddenly turned to his right to see a small, slender hand enter his view, a gold claddagh ring lopped around it's middle finger.

He looked up to see a beautiful blonde smiling down at him, clad in a knee length navy skirt and a pristine white blouse, the sun filtering through the overhead skylight making the figure glow immaculately. He looked hesitantly at the offered hand before accepting it, as she almost effortlessly helped him from the ground.

"Are you alright?" she asked, as she kept her sweet, grey eyes on him.

"Excuse me. Who do you think you are?"

She turned, startled to the two football players, a sweet, benign smile befalling her face.

"Oh, Lorelei Howlett, nice to meet you," she replied sweetly, extending her hand to the towering athlete.

An awkward moment of silence passed as both seniors eyed her hand in confusion, before Lorelei slowly withdrew her hand, her cheeks a bright pink.

"I don' know who the heck you think you are, but no one asked you," Bruce threatened, stepping closer to the young healer, emphasizing the foot of height he had towering above her, and all Lorelei could do was feel her stomach drop hard.

Though his week-old bagel breath, coupled with yellowing teeth helped in no way, it was the familiar sweeping of her comforting cape along her back and the burning heat of power running all along her limbs like electricity that had her in a stuttering mess.

If she could "hero-up" as Bobby had started calling it, the inconsiderate male before her would be a whimpering mess on the ground. No matter what she did, no matter what trick she pulled out of her sleeve, it always ended with her striding confidently down the hallway, victorious.

But she couldn't use her powers.

Not here.

So...now what?

The truth of the matter stung the hardest; she didn't know.

Who was she without her powers?

She didn't reek cool and collectively like Bobby.

Kitty's snappy and witty quips came from a mind much more agile and cynical than hers.

She didn't have a dark, feral disposition like Logan's.

Neither Hank's brilliance nor Jean's commanding presence were there to help.

Without her powers, she was nothing to these kids around her, who had grown a personality, an image since the day they were born.

Who was she supposed to be...

Allison MacKenzie was dead.

The Shadow Healer couldn't roam the halls of a public school.

Lorelei Harlow didn't really exist and Lorelei Howlett had really been a thing for what...43 hours?

At that moment, she drew a total blank, as hands continued to clam up and her heart rate continued to sky rocket.

Suddenly a flash of green and blonde flew into Lorelei's vision, between her and the towering behemoth.

"Hey, Bruce, how are yah buddy? How's the season going?" the form asked, giving the large quarterback a firm pat on the shoulder, his hand falling down as he quickly snatched the idle glasses from Bruce's thick fingers, the football player none the wiser, Lorelei slowly regaining her composure.

"Stay outta this, Owen," the large senior growled.

The tall body continued to sway with confidence, as he wrapped a relaxed arm around the hulking shoulders of the football player beside him. "Ah, come on, big guy. I know yah got a big game coming up. A lot of scouts coming to check it out. I would hate to see yah on the bench because of a little incident," the Owen kid replied smoothly, Lorelei watching with intrigue as the large red head slowly deflated his shoulders, still keeping a menacing glance on the three.

And with a simple, defeated grunt, he turned around and headed with thundering footsteps back down the hallway, Pete trailing behind him.

"Well, that was fun," Owen commented with a quick eyebrow raise, turning to face Lorelei, the healer noticeably blushing at the fit, tan blonde before her, sporting a khaki jacket and faded jeans, a black backpack slung casually over one shoulder.

She watched as he turned his eyes to her left, his face suddenly falling as he let out a sigh.

She turned to her left and found Mikey was no where to be seen.

"Bummer. The poor kid's blind without these, too," he replied.

"But you," he said, turning back to a startled Lorelei as he grabbed her hand and gave it a firm shake, "Man, I have to shake your hand," he replied. "Most importantly to disprove Angie's theory that you are a soulless bitch. No worries, just a Bayville tradition to post new kid judgements on Twitter," he smoothly replied, Lorelei cataloguing 'Twitter' in the back of her mind to ask Bobby about later, "but also to tell my kids proudly 20 years from now that I shook the hand of the heroine who took on Bruce Kelly," he replied.

Lorelei gave a small smile as he continued to shake her hand. "I'm Owen, by the way," he added.

"Lorelei," the healer replied, watching as Owen turned to continued down the hallway.

"So, how yah liking Bayville so far?" he asked, the two naturally falling into step as they walked down the crowded hallway.

" 's ok, I guess. It's just kind of like a maze," she replied, a small shrug of her shoulders.

Owen turned down to her and threw her a smile. "Well then, let's help with that."

He turned down to Lorelei's schedule and slipped it out of her hand. "Alright, let's what we've got here. Jazz Band? I didn't really peg yah as a music chick, but then again, I didn't see you going all Maximus Decimus with a 200 pound quarterback juiced up on protein shakes, so I guess you are just full of surprises," he commented, Lorelei smiling and shaking her head with amusement.

"Alright, let's walk yah down to the Performing Arts wing. You'll love Mr. Portnoy. I've heard great things. Then I'll grab yah after class for lunch, scarf down some recycled horse meat and then figure out where the rest of your classes are," he instructed.

Lorelei smiled and looked at him incredulously. "I take it your a very forward kind of guy?" she asked.

"You could say that," he replied, the two making their way down the hallway of kids.

 

* * *

 

 

The young woman peered out lazily from the open door, the dry breeze filtering through sending goosebumps along her skin, watching as the rising sun slowly began to paint the edge of the horizon brilliants reds and pinks, the flat farmland glimmering gold in the dawn's sunlight.

She let out a satisfied moan as she stretched out her rigid limbs, her spine and neck crackling and popping with relief, slowly rising to her feet as she let the blankets fall in heaps on the wooden floor.

She walked over to the over door, peering down at the track whizzing by in a blur of rusted black and sandy browns.

As a muffled echo of the train's horn traveled back to their cart, reaching her ears and breaking through the morning's shroud of peace, she turned down to her traveling companion, the thief's long jacket rolled and propped behind his head, his arms crossed across his chest and leaning against an old wooden crate, Gambit barely stirring at the sound of the train's horn.

Rogue leaned tiredly against the side of the door, her arms curling into her chest and her legs crossed casually over the other as she stared out the door, the fast wind billowing against the speedy train tugging on her hair and jacket.

 

* * *

 

 

"Alright, class. We're going to see our Big Buddies today! Is everyone excited?"

A flurry of high-pitched squeals and cheers erupted across the brightly colored room, small hands clapping sporadically as the wooden door opened, large, wondering eyes staring up at the tall high schoolers as they filed into the room.

Lorelei hung casually back as the kids began to scream with glee and delight, many rushing to a tall, brunette beside her, yelling "Shelby" with delight as they flocked to her like flies to week-old fast food.

Lorelei shook her head with amusement to herself.

Flies to week-old fast food?

She had spent way too much time out on the streets.

She looked expectantly around, hoping she could find at least one kid not already clambering over another student. She needed to observe and record at least one.

And just when she was starting to doubt actually looking forward to enjoying this class, there among the crowd around Shelby, twisting her hand absent-mindedly through a curly, black pig-tail, was a beautiful face the young healer would never forget.

The young child sighed in what almost seemed like boredom, the popular Shelby clearly taking an interest in the more out-spoken kids in her class. She looked around at the other big kids, her large, hazel eyes suddenly falling on a strawberry-blonde who looked on at her with the large smile.

The young child's face dropped open, hands falling limp at her sides, as she gasped at the big girl before her.

It was her!

The hero that had saved her with the golden light and the big cape!

There she was!

The girl she had been drawing pictures of and dreaming about every since that night.

And the young child's face changed into the widest of open smiles as she sprinted excitedly towards the older girl, the healer getting down on one knee as the young girl leaped up and wrapped her arms around her neck.

"Lorelei!" the young girl exclaimed.

"Hello, Carly," the healer greeted, tightly embracing the young girl.

 

* * *

 

 

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

The hanging acrobat, his tail wrapped around the ceiling fan with a leather-bound novel in his hands, slowly turned his bright yellow eyes from its pages to the door.

Tightly looping his legs around the base of the fan, Nightcrawler launched himself with agility and years of practice into a graceful backwards flip, landing with the daintiness of dropped cat, barely making a noise.

With the novel tucked underneath his arm, he slowly approached and opened the door, quickly trying to recount if he had put the dishes away this morning like Ororo had instructed him to do.

But he was surprised to see the face of not the glaring weather witch, but his own reflection in a familiar pair of ruby glasses.

"Hey, Kurt," Scott greeted, hands tucked almost nervously in his pockets.

It took the young German a few, long seconds to catch up to the present. "Uh...hi, Scott. Eez everyzing alright?" he asked, peering expectantly down the hallway to see MRD soldiers charging through.

"Yeah, no, no...everything's fine. I was just uh...I was just actually about to uh...shoot some hoops and was uh...wondering, you know, if you weren't...busy...maybe you'd wanna...join me," he asked, Kurt watching with intrigue as the older man stuttered over almost every word as he nervously fiddled with the fabric inside of his jean pockets.

Shoot hoops? Nightcrawler thought to himself.

When had been the last time they had played a little one-on-one?

It had to have been after the summer of Scott's senior year, then Kurt had gone back to school and slowly began to see less and less of his old friend. Soon, when Kurt had come home from classes, looking for his partner in crime he was gone, Kurt wondering the whole time what he had done wrong.

But for some reason, beneath the new tidal wave of memories from high school without his best bud, that wasn't what truly angered Kurt, and what tempted him to slam the door shut right in his face.

It was what he was doing to Lorelei.

The alienation.

The instigation.

Kurt didn't know who Scott was anymore.

The man standing before him wasn't the young man who had welcomed him into the mansion, onto the team and into this new country.

And Cyclops watched in surprise as the tall, lanky acrobat before him suddenly began to scowl, his body noticeably tensing as he glared at his old friend.

"Vhat are you tryink to do, Scott?" Kurt asked his voice almost low and threatening.

Now the young Summers was truly caught off guard. "I just...I thought we could hang out...you know like...like old times," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave his old friend an awkward smile.

"Like old times?" Kurt asked, Cyclops not daring to speak at the almost lethal tone of Nightcrawler's voice, reminding the young Summers of a threatened Wolverine.

"Eef I remember correctly, Scott, in ze old times, eet vas one for all and all for one, ja? No mutant left behind," he began, his fingers latched in a deathly grip around his door knob. "Now, I've seen you do zhings to Lorelei zhat vould put Magneto to shame. Vhat do you call zhat, Scott? Huh? She eez a mutant, just like us. She eez an X-Men, just like us," Kurt seethed.

Scott gave a heavy sigh. "Kurt, you don't understand-"

"No, Scott," Nightcrawler interjected. "I understand perfectly. Ze Scott I knew eez gone. In heez place I see a tyrant who eez takink advantage of someone who eez too nice to fight back. Vell, I am here to varn you Scott Summers, zhat Lorelei has a new bodyguard who eez not afraid to teach you a lesson."

And with that, Scott watched as Kurt's face disappeared behind the slamming door, the sound echoing like a gun shot across the empty mansion.

 

* * *

 

 

The feral mutant, for once that day, released the largest of breath, his taut shoulders noticeably deflating beneath gravity of the world around him and the world within his head. His large fingers rubbed and toyed with the folds of skin along his aching forehead, the pressure of his hands alone relieving some pain.

But not enough.

He drew himself from the dark, dreary cavern within himself, releasing himself from its walls moist of overgrowth of festering doubt, the brooding beast pulling himself from his guarded castle to peer ahead of him, sharp eyes piercing through the fluorescent lighting glaring over his mentor.

5 weeks.

To say the X-Men leader was growing concerned was an understatement.

Though the former Weapon-X held complete confidence for the Professor, residing in a time of machines and technology did not exactly grant any favoring forces to a telepath.

The old Logan, the one who used to sit out with the Professor along the cobblestone walkway beneath the blooming cherry trees and delve into his twisted, fragmented mind, looking for some semblance of memories, would be blatantly worried. The one who predominantly cared of his own intentions, even if it meant pursuing the heart of a woman that beat in the hands of another. That Logan would unsheathe his claws and begin to tear down every wall, every obstacle if it meant retrieving his mentor.

But this Logan, the one sitting alone along the bench beside his comatose mentor, sadly now bore the weight of everyone's worries.

He no longer could be the raging beast that held no cares in the world but his own, and destroy everything in his path in fits of white hot, feral, un-calculated anger.

He had to think.

He had to weigh options.

He had to assess situations.

He had to lead.

And this Logan...

...he didn't know what to do.

There was no online instruction manual on dealing with inner time warp communication, no 50 pound novel in Hank's Library.

His mentor had warned of a powerful mutant that would be coming to power within this time period, but that was all the information the professor had gathered as the new timeline warped around him, and he promised a soon update.

5 weeks was not soon.

5 weeks was 35 days of...well Wolverine didn't know.

Suddenly, the world around him fell into a familiar, hazy white, and Logan could not hide the look of relief painted across his face as he watched his mentor step from the shadows of his on consciousness.

"Chuck," Logan warmly greeted, immediately getting up from his seat and walking up to his old friend.

"It's good to see you Logan. I would love to continue our greetings, but I haven't much time and I need to pass on a message," the Professor replied.

Logan's face immediately hardened into his stoic, leader gaze.

"What's up, Chuck," Logan asked, cutting right to the chase.

"The world has changed greatly since the X-Men has disbanded the Sentinel Program and destroyed the Phoenix force. In more ways bad than good, I'm afraid," the Professor started. "I don't know what event transpired leading up to the time point I am in now, but only mutants survived, in this and in all other countries."

"You're telling me there's no normals?" Logan asked, arms crossed tightly across his chest in thought.

"Yes. And there are warnings everywhere that if we are to notice the existence of one, we are to turn them in," the Professor continued.

"Turn them into who?" Logan asked.

"There is a sole, anarchist ruler who seems to govern the entire world, but he resides here, in the States," the Professor started, slowly starting to pace before his former pupil, "He goes by the name of Apocalypse. He has private armies sanctioned in every city all across the country, or at least in the ones I've been to. They're ruthless, Logan. They conduct spontaneous "Power Checks" they call them. They will restrain anyone they please on the streets or barge into their homes, and they must prove they are mutants," he further explained.

"And if they're not?" Logan asked.

"I have not witnessed any non-mutants being taken into custody. But they do check the power level of each mutant, and there seems to be an unspoken rule that all mutants over Level 3, are taken into custody," Professor Xavier continued, briefly looking up at the X-Men leader before continuing his pace.

"Have they confronted you yet?" Logan asked.

The Professor shook his head. "I've been traveling too much for any one army to take particular notice in me, but every state seems to be the same. There are fights breaking out everywhere along the streets. I have not reunited with Bishop or any of the others, but there is word traveling along the streets of an anti-apocalyptic group forming in Connecticut and I'm going to travel there as a start."

"Where are you now?" Logan asked.

"Along the border of New York state. I should be in Connecticut by the end of this week, if all fairs smoothly," the Professor sighed heavily, finally ceasing his pacing to turn and fully look at his student.

"I know very little of the world I am in now, Logan, but I am hoping that this terrorist group will help better understand what brought about this particular timeline," the Professor continued.

Suddenly, Charles Xavier turned his head to the side, his attention drawn to something in his outside world. "I must go, Logan. I need to keep moving. When I board the train for Boston, I will contact you then. Goodbye, Logan," the Professor replied, his image before Wolverine already dissipating.

"Good luck, Chuck," came his reply, just as the white fog lifted, leaving the X-Men leader standing before his comatose mentor, the heart monitor echoing across the steel walls.

 

* * *

 

 

"Fascinating."

The former high school teacher focused further in on sample beneath the lens of his microscope, scribbling down brief notes on a small note pad off to his right, the sound of the graphite scratching across the paper the only sound echoing across the metal walls of his spacious laboratory.

The former teacher was so engrossed in his tests at hand, he didn't notice the young, strawberry blonde plowing through his laboratory before she was right on top of him, wrapping her arms around him, almost pummeling him out of his swivel chair and knocking not only his glasses, but also his pencil and notebook towards the ground.

"No!" Lorelei exclaimed, quickly letting go of her teammate as they both turned to watch as his belongings fell for the ground.

But both X-Men seemed taken back to find merely a millisecond later the glasses, notebook and pencil encased in a familiar golden glow, hovering feet above the tiled floor.

"I-I didn't...how am I..." Lorelei stuttered, looking hesitantly down at her hands for an explanation, Hank plucking the objects from the air, setting the pencil and notebook on his work space and his glasses once against on the brim of his nose, as he turned with fascination towards the young teenager beside him.

"Have your powers been doing that lately? Working on their own accord?" he asked with deep interest.

Lorelei finally gathered her scrambled thoughts and slack jaw to turn back to Hank.

"Um...I...I don't know. It's only recently I've noticed it. A spilling cup, a falling pot, Bobby walking into one of his own puddles...I knew I had sharpened reflexes...but not that sharp," she commented.

Hank peered skeptically at her, humming thoughtfully to himself, readjusting his glasses. "I want you to keep an eye on that. It could either mean your powers are growing, becoming more in-tuned with your body's surroundings, or they're becoming slightly unstable. Let me know if begins to occur more frequently," he explained, Lorelei nodding tentatively, still glancing bewildered down at her fingertips.

"Now," he replied, placing his hands on his lap "what was it you wanted to tell me?" he asked.

He watched amused as a wide smile flew across Lorelei's face, clapping her hands excitedly together.

"Oh yeah! I cannot thank you enough for enrolling me in Bayville High!" she exclaimed.

The former teacher could not help but smile fondly at the ecstatic teenager. "I take it you had a good first day of school?"

She threw him an understanding smirk. "Are you kidding me? It was horrendous," she replied.

"I have no idea what's suddenly happening with the letters in math, whatever genius came up with that idea, I barely know who Shakespeare is, let alone what happened in Act whatever, Line such-and-such in ones of his plays, I'm fairly certain I made at least 2 kids cry today, I actually had to eat lunch meat today to satisfy Owen, which my digestive system is rejecting at this very moment, and I fell completely frozen before two enormous bullies today."

Beast still squinted at the latest recruit with a perplexed look.

"And it was fantastic!" she exclaimed.

He watched her as she came to lean against his work bench, legs crossed comfortably as she turned her eyes up to her teammate.

"Mr. McCoy, I have never felt so...alive! I don't know who I am! Do you know how amazing that feels? I am discovering myself. My whole life, I've either smiled falsly as the prim and proper daughter of extremely twisted Senator or stood courageously powerful as the Shadow Healer. This me...I don't know anything about her. Never once had I done something of my own will. It's either been in the interest of my family or my patients. Never once have I stopped and asked what would I do. Never. Now...I'm figuring just what I would do. What I like. Who I like. What I don't like. What bugs me. Everything!"

She pushed herself from the bench and turned to fully face the Beast, hands clasped as she slowly dipped her head toward him in gratitude.

"Thank you, Mr. McCoy," she replied.

The former teacher could not help but smile from ear to ear.

"You are most welcome, Lorelei. I just want to make sure you know that if you any trouble with mathematics, english, or simply need a friend to confide in," he started, reaching to take on of the young girl's hands in his own, squeezing it firmly, "you know where to find me."

 

* * *

 

 

"I see your still alive. Guess your first day didn't go too badly."

Lorelei spun around in her brisk walk down the hallway, to face a smirking Wolverine, hands idling along his large belt buckle.

Lorelei laughed. "It certainly could've gotten worse," she replied, turning to walk towards her leader.

Suddenly, swirls of red and black matter, entwined with thick smoke appeared inches before the newest recruit, yelping in surprise as she felt two strong hands wrap around her arms, taking her with them as the being disappeared once more.

Wolverine let out an annoyed sigh, as he shook his head and continued further down the hallway. "Kids," he grumbled to himself.

"Kurt, what the heck was-"

"Wait, she's in on it too!?"

The healer paused mid sentence to turn to two other life forms she suddenly felt crawling along her bones like an itch.

There sat Kitty, perfectly poised with one leg crossed over the other along the cushioned bench beside her bed's floorboard, looking just like a tentative cat, her body at ease yet stationed and ready for leaping. Bobby, on the other hand, laid collapsed and sprawled out on her bean bag, head slightly craned to smile at Kurt and herself.

She turned back up to the former acrobat beside her. "You wanna tell me what we're all doing here in my room?" she asked.

Kurt gave her a hopeful glance. "You remember how you said you vould help me find Angel?" he asked.

"Yes..." the young healer hesitantly replied.

"Vell...zhey vant to help, too," Kurt explained, gesturing to the other two X-Men.

She turned, befuddled, up to his bright yellow eyes again. "So...what? This is like some secret task force?" Lorelei asked.

Iceman leaned up excitedly up from the large bean bag. "Like Tom Cruise and Mission Impossible!? I'm in!" Bobby exclaimed.

Kitty rolled her eyes at her younger teammate. "No, Bobby, we're not like Tom Cruise. Tom Cruise had actual assigned missions," she replied evenly, now turning her attention back to Kurt. "You know, like the ones Logan gives us."

Bobby's face lit up even brighter. "Woah, so we're working under Logan's radar? Oh, I am so definitely in," he proclaimed, laying back almost satisfied just to be engulfed by the bean bag once again.

"Bobby!" Kitty hissed.

"You've seen how zhey exclude us. Ve vant answers. Ve'll just have to get zhem on our own," Kurt explained.

Kitty wasn't budging. "And what, then, Kurt? Huh? Have even more secrets between each other? We're supposed to be a team," she argued.

"They sure ain't acting like it," Bobby muttered.

"Bobby," Kitty warned.

"You didn't see him though."

The occupants of the room turned to the healer.

"Warren, that is. He's in there. He's trying to fight it, but he can't do it alone. He's need help, and fast, at least before Sinister finds out," Lorelei added.

All eyes suddenly widened, heads slowly turned to study the new recruit.

"Before Sinister finds out what?" Kitty asked slowly.

"That I cracked his jewel. It serves as a direct mind link between him and Mr. Essex, and it's only a matter of time before he finds out its not operating at peak efficiency," Lorelei explained.

"Peak efficiency...so you mean Varren eez not completely under Sineester's control?" Kurt asked.

Lorelei nodded her head. "At this point, he's probably experiencing some free will of thought. But if Sinister finds out the jewel's damaged, and replaces it, we've lost our chance to help your friend. Once it's cracked, it'll take a lot of power, but the hole can easily be widened. If Essex replaces it, trying to recreate the exact same position and trajectory point to inflict damage again is next to impossible," Lorelei explained, arms crossed lightly across her chest.

"And how do you know so much about the jewel?" Kitty threw at the healer.

Lorelei's face paused before she released a small breath and averted her eyes to the ground. "I knew a mutant on the streets. Good kid. Couldn't handle his powers though. I tried to help him as much as I could, but it was easy to see the the energy it took to control his powers was taxing. When Sinister came knocking, he was too tired to say no. Next thing I know, he's got a blue jewel, just like Warren's, sitting on his forehead and he's attacking me. I spent so long hunting him down, trying to help..." Lorelei explained, her voice fading.

The young adults each turned somberly to each other, the real horror and panic of the situation finally falling into place. Bobby was the first to speak up, pulling himself completely upright in the bean bag to address his teammates.

"The way I see it, Warren needs help, and the "adults" are too stubborn to work with us. Who needs 'em? I say we do it on our own. We're X-Men, for crying out loud! If there's anyone who can handle it, we can!" he explained.

He stood up and walked to the middle of the group, extending his hand and turning to the others. "Now, who's with me?" he asked.

Kurt didn't hesitate a second before walking up and placing his three fingers on top of Bobby's hand, turning expectantly to Kitty. She rolled her eyes, but stood up and joined them.

"Ugh, fine," she replied. All eyes turned to the healer.

"I'll help," she began,"but under one condition."

She walked up to their small circle and placed her hand on top of theirs.

"We have to be smart about this. If we're not being trusted with secrets, than Logan must believe it's for our own good, which means if he gets whiff of what we're up to, he'll shut us down before we know what happened," Lorelei explained.

The three other X-Men silently nodded in agreement, hands falling back to their sides, each breathing deeply as their new assignment weighed in on their shoulders.

"I assume settink up shop on zhe kitchen counter eez not a good idea," Kurt lightly commented, Lorelei throwing him a smirk.

"There's a small room in the upper north tower Warren kept in the new designs for structural reasons. There's no door to it, so I can just phase us in and out until we make one," Kitty supplied.

"Ah, man, this is too cool," Bobby replied. He looked excitedly up at the others. "Well, we gotta have a name. Ya know, something like the...the X-Rebels!" he exclaimed.

Kitty deadpanned. "We're not calling ourselves that," she replied.

"Besides, we're not really rebels. We're just doing a little...investigation on the down low," Lorelei added.

Bobby scrunched his face in thought. "Alright...how bout...oh, how about Generation X," he dramatically introduced, waving his hands across an imaginary banner.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders, but Kitty shook her head. "Nah, it doesn't feel right. We need a name like the Howling Commando's. It's trademark and doesn't reflect who we're allied with," she suggested.

"And vhy vould ve not vant to be affiliated vith zhe X-Men?" Kurt questioned.

"If we're working under the radar, and believe me when I say that if Bobby is anything to go by, we won't be stopping with just Angel, we need something that's no going to raise suspicion or paint a big target sign on our asses. Like saying we're X-Men," Kitty explained.

"Well, there's the Avengers, the Defenders...how bout the Protectors?" Lorelei suggested. Kitty, Bobby and Kurt turned to each other with nodding heads.

"I like it," Bobby replied.

"Me too," Kurt added.

"But if we're trying to hide the fact we're X-Men, wouldn't our suits be a dead give away?" Lorelei countered, pointing to the large X symbol on Nightcrawler's chest.

Kitty gave a simple flick of her hand. "Let me worry about that," she replied.

"Vhat about our mutant names? I believe zhe world already knows Nightcrawler vorks for Wolverine," Kurt added.

Bobby almost squealed with excitement, fists pumping in the air. "We get new codenames!? Can this day get any better?!" he exclaimed.

"Well, I had a group name in Harlem. Astrolabe. I kind of like it," Lorelei added.

"Oh man, I've always wanted to be called Blizzard!" Bobby added, Kitty habitually rolling her eyes, but kept a smirk on her face. "I've always like the sound of Shifter," she replied.

Kurt simply shrugged. "Nightcrawler vas my circus title. I don't know any ozzer names, ozzer zhan Elf, vhich doesn't sound all zhat zhreatening" he said.

"It's ok, Kurt. We don't have to come up with one right this second," Lorelei explained. She turned to the others. "Actually I was wondering if you guys could help me come up with my X-Men name. I wanted to focus more on the energy half of my powers, rather than my healing abilities, so I have Super Nova and Stardust so far, but neither were really clicking with me," she replied.

Faces were scrunched in thought. "Uh, maybe we'll have to put that on the back burner too," Kitty replied.

The four young adults sighed in content, turning to each other with elated smiles.

"The Protectors," Kurt said aloud, letting it roll around in his mouth.


	9. Shades of Scarlet

"Breaking news! It's official, everyone. Wolverine is a helicopter parent."

The young healer could not help but giggle at the deep, irritated sigh that echoed through her cell phone as she made her way down Main Street, her boots crunching their way through fallen leaves.

"Just think, you're on your way to scheduling hourly check-in calls and implanting a tracking chip along my skull," she teased. "Don't worry, Logan. Your secret's safe with me."

There was a sharp, gravely laugh, sinister in its depths. "Just wait 'till trainin' tonight. We'll see where that smart ass mouth a' yours will get yah," he replied.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lorelei spotted a quick splash of vibrant green. She peered up at the approaching street sign.

Pheasant Lane.

Nope. Not yet. Just a few more.

"But seriously, Logan. You're talking to a girl who's lived on the streets for years. A quick, 3 pm walk to a bookstore, 3 miles from the institute, does not require a bodyguard, a drone, or whatever else you were planning on sending out," she countered, giving a quick glance around the 4-way intersection before quickly crossing.

"Yah gotta learn to be careful though, Munchkin. Lorelei Howlett's got an identity now, and the less connections made between her and your other, glowing half, the better," Logan explained.

Lorelei laughed aloud. "I think you're having this lecture with the wrong person. I wasn't the one who started making ice cubes for his drink in the middle of a busy food court," Lorelei countered.

The former Weapon-X gave a small chuckle. "Yeah, I know kid. Just be careful, alright?" he asked.

Lorelei rolled her eyes, a cheeky smile on her face. "Yes, _Dad_ ," she replied sarcastically, hanging up the phone and cutting off any retort the X-Men leader had. She slipped her new cell phone in her pocket, hefted her backpack higher on her shoulders and continued further down main street.

The late November breeze was stronger now more than ever, gusts so frigid now at night, howling against her storm doors like a pack of searching wolves. There was a sharp tang to the air, a heavy taste that warned a rain storm could turn to snow at the drop of a dime. The sky was continually overcast, the sun peeking through periodically throughout the day. The colorful, crimson leaves had finally fallen to the ground, a spectacle the young healer had not observed for a long time. The trees were now bare, ready to take on the weight of winter snow as December drew nearer. Window displays and shops along the main drag were already peppered with christmas lights and deep, scarlet ribbons, though Thanksgiving wasn't for another two days. Radio shows were already playing Bing Crosby and Dean Martin classics, and TV commercials already had kids in the mood to write Santa his annual letter.

Lorelei peered up at the corner sign.

West Wharf Road.

There it was.

She rounded the corner, immediately seeing a change in construction.

The small, modern wood shops had no place there on West Wharf. The immediate candy shop to her right abruptly ended, giving way to old, chipping copper brick, crumbling cement continuing on for yards. West Wharf Road suddenly turned to gravel, Lorelei peering ahead to see a small patch of harbor peeking through between two large brick buildings. A rotting dock bobbed violently along with the wind-driven waves, the roaring and splashing adding to the ominous silence of the area.

Piles of rusty lobster cages and stacks of barnacle-covered barrels indicated this once to be a busy harbor district at some point. Half-built stone walls circled around the largest brick building just at the end of the street, right before the water. Windows were either gone or boarded up, the doorway simply a rectangle hole at the structures entrance. A faded sign was nailed crookedly above the doorway, the roofing chipped metal sheets.

Lorelei fished through her jacket pocket, bringing out her folded schedule form, and looked to the top corner.

"Lorelei Howlett. 23 West Warf Road. North Salem, New York," she read aloud. She peered up from her sheet to a barrel stationed right outside the building's doorway, 2 brass, faded letters nailed to its front.

23.

"So this is it," she commented aloud.

The building Hank has is place in her transcript as a home address. The school's mail of course was sent to a personal mailbox at the town's post office.

Lorelei suddenly turned to her right, a serious of shouts grabbing her attention. She quickly stuffed her schedule back into her pocket, crouched lower to the ground, and sprinted over to the adjacent brick building, it's left side along the street parallel to West Wharf; Bridge Road. She slinked meticulous with the speed and agility of a hummingbird's shadow along the building's side, coming within feet of the front side's corner, the yelling and shouts increasing in volume.

Taking a large breath, Lorelei quickly sifted the thundering waves, bustling wind and anxious shouting out of her mind and focused deeply on the people just around the corner.

She could feel the 6 heartbeats, lifeforms bustling with energy. 5 were stronger, steadier, calm. 1 was sporadic and fearful, young in its growth. No doubt a young teenager. Male, by his type of heartbeat. But it was stronger, more desperate than a simple, healthy heart. It was pumping blood faster than necessary, meaning that he was loosing it somewhere else.

He was injured.

She let the sounds and smells around her come roaring back into her atmosphere, the young kid now screaming at the top of his lungs as the older men surrounding him continued to shout orders in a steady, worn rhythm.

"Stop where you are, mutant."

"You are surrounded."

"Surrender now, and no more harm will come to you."

It was the MRD.

They were trying to reel the kid in.

Lorelei let out a huff of irritation before glancing around quickly at the area around her.

No people. No phones. No security cameras. Nothing.

She took one last glance to her left before cascading herself in a shower of gold, her cape, suit and mask materializing in seconds, her feet soon leaving ground.

The young boy cowered closer to the brick wall behind him, screaming horrifically at his bleeding knee, open flesh freezing in the afternoon air. With eyes filled with tears, he watched fearfully as another neutralizing net was thrown in his direction. His brilliant red hair quickly ignited into roaring flames, balls of fire encircling his closed fists.

"STOP!" he yelled, raising both hands, sending a ray of fire upon the net, watching as its ashes dropped to the ground.

"NO! STOP!" he screamed desperately, watching as the MRD enclosed closer on him once again.

Suddenly, just above to his left, the sun disappeared, a dark shadow falling on the scene. The young boy squinted his eyes to peer up into the sky, gasping as a flying, dark figure hovered above them, covered in golden waves.

The figure was suddenly before him in seconds, posted between him and the approaching MRD. Before he knew it, he felt small, slender fingers fall over his eyes and a burst of intense heat.

"My eyes!"

"it burns!"

"I can't see!" the MRD officers called out in shouts.

The fingers soon left his eyes, leaving him staring up into a masked face of woman.

"When...how..." he stuttered.

She gave him a small smile. "White sunlight. Causes temporary blindness. It'll buy us a little time before they call in reinforcements," she explained, crouching down on one knee to inspect his injured leg.

It was then, down on the ground flowing cape and hair glittering like the Sun did the young boy finally recognize her.

"No way! It's you! It's really you! You're the-"

"Shadow Healer, yeah," the woman finished, already looping her hands around the boys back and legs as she lifted him into the air, the young boy shouting in pain in response.

She gently apologized, wasting no time as she ascended into the air, quickly making her way over the building, spotting the abandoned 23 West Wharf building.

Without a moment's hesitation, she flew in through an open window, landing on the cement floor and sending thick clouds of settled dust billowing into the air, sheets of plastic loosely covering neighboring windows billowing in response.

The level she had landed on was pretty empty, save for a long, dusty workbench in its centered, neighbored by rolls of plastic sheets. 3 rusted pillars were evenly spaced along the rooms center beam, a piece of wall jutting out in the far left corner, a hole where a door should be.

The young healer quickly made her way to the rolls of plastic and set the squirming boy gently down on the bench, who looked like he was already trying to make a run for it.

"Look, I know you're trying to be nice, and everything, but I don't need your help. I'm fine," he grumbled, already lifting himself steadily into an upright position, wincing the whole way.

The Shadow Healer crouched down and smirked at him and his innocent stubbornness. "Your knee says differently," she replied, gently pushing him back on the table. "Don't worry. The sooner I heal this, the sooner you can get back to antagonizing the MRD," she replied cheeky.

He turned to her, cheeks rosy, along with his bright freckle spattering beneath his eyes, with offended anger and eyes laced with defiance. "I wasn't antagonizing them! You don't even know me!" he argued, roughly pushing against her grip that continued to hold him firmly to the table.

"You're right, I don't know you. But I do know the MRD. I know they don't patrol until 5 pm down here on the west side of North Salem. And there's no one living around this area to report if you were happening to use your powers in public. Which means you went looking for them," she surmised, watching smugly as the young boy glared at her angrily, cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

She cheekily patted his shoulder, turning her attention down to his ankle, her eyes glazing over in a golden haze. She couldn't help but pity the young boy beneath her. This wasn't just a scratch. The asphalt the young boy had made contact with had ripped off a layer of skin, bright red, blood-filled muscle showing beneath, his jeans torn and ragged where the injury lay. Along with amazement at the boy's quite high pain tolerance, a deep seated anger began to boil inside her. What had this young boy been thinking? Gone looking for the MRD. Picking a fight with authority. It was people like the young boy beneath her hand that society still distrustful of the mutant population.

It was people like him that were slowly tarnishing the mutant image.

It was people like him that were giving the government a reason to deny education to mutants.

She inhaled a deep, shaky breath.

Relax, Lorelei, she reassured herself, turning down to the still squirming boy.

It's not his fault.

Just as she lifted her hand to his freely bleeding knee, fingers now dancing with glittering light, her head suddenly snapped to her left, the young boy watching her wide golden eyes anxiously.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked nervously.

The healer simply sat there, transfixed by something, mouth agape, for a few long seconds.

"Crap," she said. "Reinforcements are here already," she explained, her eyes switching back to normal as she addressed her patient. "They're coming up. I need you to stay absolutely silent," she instructed urgently.

She roughly pushed the young boy flat on his back, both of her hands suddenly surrounded by a gold orb. She shot her land hand straight up above her head, the boy watching as a flat, golden plain stretched out from her hand, dipping seconds later to form 4 walls in a chamber around them.

Keeping her hand suspended above her, the Shadow Healer placed a finger to her lips, as thunderous footsteps echoed along the neighboring stairwell and across the spacious, empty room.

Soon the men in green were filing professionally into the room, the first 4 running up to the north wall, one for each, wide window, the next four occupying one window respectively along the south wall. The next scattered about the middle of the room, guns locked and loaded, swiftly side-stepping along the ground, inches from where the two mutants lay.

The healer turned down to the young boy as his eyes grew wide with fear, his limbs horrifically stiff. She reached out her hand and gently rubbed his arm in comfort, watching with a defensive, protective stance as the men seemed to dance around her dome.

She couldn't help but wonder what the kid had done to call the need for 13 MRD officers.

"Call out!" an officer ordered, standing right next to the two hidden mutants, both jumping in their skin and the loud volume of his voice.

A wave of 'clear' 's from the officers echoed in waves, guns slowly lowered to a casual stance.

"Alright," came the man still standing beside the undetected mutants, "building 2 clear," he pronounced, the officers sprinting back down the stairs they came, the Shadow Healer following their life signatures until they were out the door and heading to the neighboring building.

She released a tired sigh, pulling her hand from the young boys arm and lowering her limp arm to her lap, the golden dome dissipating.

The antsy boy immediately sprung up in his seat, turning wildly to the girl beside him.

"How did you do that!? How did they not see us!?" he exclaimed. She smiled at him and slowly rose from the ground, rolling her stiff neck casually.

"I can manipulate light photons. The dome is covered with them. I just made them look like we, or the table, weren't here," she explained, gesturing instinctively to the table beneath him, her head turned slightly towards the opposite wall, listening as the MRD cruisers slowly began their engines.

His face grew wide with excitement. "Dude! That's so cool!" he exclaimed, leaping off the small work bench. The young healer smiled with amusement when the young boy peered down with wonder at his leg, pulling at the open hole in the leg of his jean to inspect it.

"My knee..It doesn't hurt..." he said, peering up at the Shadow Healer with untamed excitement.

She gave a small chuckle. "I healed it while we were in camouflage mode," she replied.

He smiled down at his leg, experimentally stomping it and twisting it around. "Well...thanks," he replied.

He looked back up at her, watching as the sun streaming in the window outlined her form in rays of golden sunlight, radiating around her in waves. She seemed to be a magnet for them.

"I'm Garfield, by the way," he replied. The Shadow Healer smiled mutely and nodded her head in recognition.

"And your's would be-" he asked, waiting expectantly for her to answer, a guilty smile on his face.

"Not gullible," she replied with a smirk, turning out to peer at the already golden sun setting in the sky.

She smiled to herself. It had been longer than she had said. And the helicopter parent hadn't checked in yet. She should probably be checking the skies for a cloaked Blackbird, or a spying Storm.

Heck, for all she knew, Wolverine had a spare jet-pack lying around just for this kind of stuff.

"Uh, why you gotta be like that!?" he asked, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I say the least you could do is tell me the name of the gorgeous babe who saved me!"

"Hah!" she laughed, turning back to him with a large smile. "The Shadow Healer isn't enough?" she asked.

He snorted. "No! And who came up with that name anyway? Had nothing better up your sleeve?" he quipped, arms crossed against his chest.

Her eyes glazed over with a haze of memories. "It was a patient who came up with it," she replied.

He sighed in defeat, realizing he wasn't going to get anyway with the famous mutant.

"What about the X-Men? You officially with them?" he asked.

She chuckled to herself.

This kid wasn't going to stop.

"Am I a teammate? Yes, I am," she replied.

He pumped his fists with excitement and triumph. "Wicked. I saw the Sentinel Showdown in the city. That was frickin' awesome!" he exclaimed.

"Language," she warned, peering out the window.

He ignored her.

"Who knew you were packing power like that! I thought you were just some kind of flying doctor," he replied.

"I'm that too," she said.

The young boy huffed, plopping himself down on the small table he had been sprawled out on earlier. "My mom had always said you should've started up a hospital or something. I mean, mutants can't go to any now after that dickhead senator..."

"Language."

"...went and screwed it all up. You know, something under the radar. She said she would've been the first customer," he continued.

She turned cautiously back to him. "Is she alright?" she asked, worried.

He turned to her with a confused face, shaking his head. "Uh...yeah. She just wanted like physicals and stuff. MRI's, cat scans...the whole works. My mom's a dreamer," he answered.

He peered around the empty room once more, his head slowly nodding to an unspoken thought.

"Heck, you can even start one here. Rebuild this dump into one," he commented.

The young healer did a one, slow 360 of the spacious room again, entertaining herself with the imagination of hospital beds, patient rooms, service desks, medical equipment.

And her eyes suddenly lit up, wide with excitement.

 

* * *

 

 

"So why the change in scenery? 'Fraid too many people can see me kick your butt in the Danger Room?" Lorelei teased, peering around the small gym room, as she laced the last of her shoe lace.

The training room was in no way small, simply smaller in comparison to the massive Danger Room. With a horse shoe shape to it, it held a large, authentic boxing ring right at its center, to its left flanked by rows and rows of exercise equipment, walls covered with weight lifting machines, and to its right, seated beside a large area of bright red mats, gymnastic and balancing beams tucked along the large, wall-covering window to the back yard, beside a large locker room, showering rooms behind those.

He released a deep chuckle, walking up to her with an offered hand, effortlessly lifting the young girl from her feet. "It's tha' little smar' mouth that gotcha here in the first place. You shoul' learn to keep it closed," he jeered.

The young healer rolled her eyes and peered around the empty workout space. "No but seriously? Why here?" she asked, with a more serious tone.

"Hank's still gotcha on medical probation. You'll be cleared for the Danger Simulations next week. Thought this would be low key enough," Logan replied, giving his taped knuckles a loud pounding.

The young healer rolled her eyes. "Excuses, excuses," she taunted, adjusting the fingerless gloves around her hands as she jumped with jitters in place, humming obnoxiously the Rocky theme song.

Wolverine turned to her with a deadpan expression.

She gave a small, one-shoulder shrug, stretching her arms above her head. "Kurt and I watched the first two last night. He was adamant that after 5 years, I needed to start my movie education with Sylvester Stallone," she replied.

He pounded his knuckles together, a playful, dangerous smirk on his face. "Alrigh' then, Balboa. Let's see how hard you can get hit," he jeered.

The young healer squealed and winked at him gleefully. "I got that reference," she replied.

And then the ring fell silent as the two X-Men slowly began circling each other, feet walking in tandem.

Suddenly the young healer's face lit up, her stance and steps never wavering. "I feel like we should have a call off," she replied

Logan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Stay in the game, kid. Stay focused," he instructed.

But it was already too late.

" Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the spectacle of all spectacles, the event for the ages, the match of the centuries. X-Man versus X-Man. In the left corner, we have a mutant who's name won't escape yah. A returning warrior. You know him as the ruthless, feral leader, caging within him the spirit of a creature who longs for the feel of bone breaking beneath adamantium knuckles. The beast of unbreakable body and spirit, who could floss more regularly, the mighty Wolverine!" she exclaimed, raising her booming, announcer voice to echo across the gym.

"That's real cute, Kid," Logan replied sarcastically.

"And in the right corner, we have a new champion for the people. A woman who I daresay could, for the first time in ages, relieve the Wolverine of his victory streak. She dazzles with her skills and her powers, she is the luminous, the courageous, the indomitable, the-"

"Oh, just get on with it," Logan interjected, an irritated huff escaping from his mouth.

"-the Shadow Healer. Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen, she's working on a different name," she called out, turning back with a large smile on her face to her opponent.

The X-Men leader raised an eyebrow. "Ya' done?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied. She nodded her chin to him.

"Rules?" she asked.

"No powers. And no using that nerve pinching technique. Just bare hands and feet," he instructed.

And with that, she was off, charging speedily towards her opponent.

The seasoned X-Man gave an upward turn of the corner of his mouth, already planning in his head his moves for her speedy demise. He picked his feet off the ground and charged her as well, carefully watching her arms, shoulders and legs as she approached, knowing full well of her extensive and colorful background of combat training.

He watched and waited for her first line of attack, his eyes catching the slightest shift in her stance. She began to hang her left side back as she approached him, leaning her weight slightly forward on her right side as a lever for a swinging blow from her hand or leg. He kept his left arm locked and on the ready for a quick, reflexive defensive block.

Sure enough, he watched as her left leg swung up towards his chest. He quickly extended his arm, open palm effectively flicking her ankle away, as well as curving his right hand around for a punch.

To anyone else, even to most of his teammates, the punch would've landed along their shoulders/upper arm, and would've sent them sprawled out along the ground, howling from the impact of adamantium bone smashing into their own.

But she was expecting it.

She ducked quickly, just low enough so that his hand caught the air merely inches from the tip of her head. Shooting both arms up, she latched around his wrist, and with extreme nimbleness, launched herself into a backflip, cleanly flying over his left shoulder and landing lightly behind him. He quickly spun around to block yet another high kick aimed for his chest, the young healer using her just blocked foot as a propelling point, flipping her body in a complete 360, using her new momentum to swing her other leg at the leader, her few inches off the ground sending her kick headed straight for his head.

Logan smoothly slid out of the way, raising his own leg for a side swipe across the ground to wipe her legs out from underneath her. Spotting his tactics once again, she nimble leaped just as his powerful leg came within inches of her ankle. Mid-air, she flipped her feet to the ceiling, her head now heading for the ground. Catching her bodyweight on her hands, upon landing, she sent her upward legs into an angled spiral, twisting effectively with one hand in circles, her feet narrowly missing the X-Men leader as he ducked out of the way. She was quickly on her feet again, using the blunt edge of her hand to knock two swings from her opponent.

The exchange of blows that never made contact, the dance of fighting moves continued on for almost a half an hour, by the end both X-Men sweating profusely and breathing heavily, movements becoming slightly less powerful and calculated.

Suddenly, as the young healer ran toward her opponent, fist poised above her shoulder, she gave a meager whimper, one the enhanced Weapon-X could detect, as her hand flew to her chest, skidding to a halt before her leader, knees buckling in pain.

The X-Men leader immediately relaxed his poised muscles, his taut joints, and kneeled down on one knee before the small girl, looking up into her scrunched eyes.

"Lorelei? Munchkin, you ok?" he asked, concerned.

Suddenly, the young healer's eyes flew wide open, the widest of victorious smiles on her face. The X-Men leader grumbled to himself, knowing he had been cheated and defeated, simply watching as the young girl lunged and tackled him to the ground, sitting resolutely on his chest and smirking down at him gleefully.

The former Weapon-X could not help but shake his head with amusement, the young healer clasping her hands as she gestured to an invisible crowd around them, mimicking raspy cheers and hollers of a stadium unseen.

"You cheated," he stated matter-of-factly.

She huffed and put both hands on her hips. "And what, watch that little dance go on forever. You were going easy on me because of my lung and your steel knuckles. Granted, it did feel good," she replied, giving her shoulder and experimental roll before climbing off of him.

"Good how?" Logan asked, sitting up and reaching for a small gym bag by the corner of the ring.

"I don't know. It's always exciting switching up partners. He's smaller than you. A lot nimbler and more crafty with his work. You can tell the Japanese influence in your fighting skills, but they definitely hail from a different clan than his do," she replied.

"You know you fight like him," he commented, large chest expanding rapidly to intake more air, as not doubt hers was doing. She gingerly bent down to pick up her water bottle, sore muscles badgering in protest, as he tossed a fresh, white towel from the small gym bag back to her. She looped it around her neck, using an end to pat at the waterfall of sweat that continued to pour down her face.

She threw back her water bottle, the icy chill tickling her throat before looking back at her leader. "He's my trainer, Logan. I think that's supposed to happen," she quipped, looping her legs around criss-crossed sitting position.

"I know that, smart mouth. I'm sayin' yah look like him when yah fight. You go all dead behind the eyes. Like it's not really you who's fightin'," he elaborated, casually slipping his sweat-soaked shirt of, letting the towel hang loose around his neck.

The young healer just shrugged. "Maybe it's a Catholic thing," she responded, taking a another generous sip from her water-bottle.

"Elf doesn' do that. Tha' little circus boy gets all smiley when he's flipping around," the X-Men leader joked, Lorelei shaking her head with amusement.

She sat in the silence of self-thought for a few moments, letting the overhead clock echo throughout the small gym. "I think we distance ourselves. We step into hell on a daily basis. Sure, you leave it at the end of the day, or at the end of the night for him. But it lingers sometimes. In your mind. You can't shake it. You try everything you can to make sure it doesn't follow you back out. And so you get all numb when you fight. You get angry, you start to hate, and the blackness from whomever you're fighting suddenly starts sticking to you," she explained, Wolverine watching as her eyes grew darker, playing in the shadows of a past life, settling into a deep brood.

He knew this would come up again.

That their talk in the kitchen those nights ago wouldn't truly fix all of her doubts.

But he was prepared to stick with it.

To remind her as often as she needed.

"You got us, Lorelei. You know that, right?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile, gathering her hoodie from the bench and slowly standing up, as if her street life had already festered into chains that weighed her down to the ground.

"Some habits don't die," she replied meekly. As she walked past her leader, she gave him a small, affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for the sparring session," she replied, making her way between the ropes of the boxing ring and out the door and over to the elevator at the end of the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

The dining room was alive with sweet noise and seasoned smells, the warm heat rising from the freshly baked food all along the length of the dining table and warming the occupants within.

Most were seated already, dangerously eyeing the delicious looking food. Jean and Scott sat beside each other, the young couple both clad in off white sweaters, the young Summers pulling on his own as it encroached closer to his neck. Kitty, Bobby and Kurt sat opposite them, the three of them eyeing the dishes before them, eyes and mouths watering. Hank was seated at the head of the table closest to the door, forge seated to his left, and two empty seat to his right for Ororo and Tildie.

Said weather witch walked into the dining room, a colorful, autumn apron wrapped around her waist, the large turkey in her hands as the young Soames followed along right on her heels, glancing shyly at the others. Logan was close behind them, taking his seat at the other head of the table after Ororo had set the turkey down before his seat.

As she led Tildie with her hand slightly guiding the young girl at the small of her back, Lorelei walked in, almost dazed at the amount of food and the sight of all the X-Men present at once.

She couldn't help but think back to a time when it was her family's dining room she was walking into, friends and family from all across the world seated at the table, young kids screeching as they chased each other around the table. Loud, excited voices would bounce off of the skyscraper ceilings, everyone thrilled to see the other once again.

She would look over to find her mother nestled somewhere around the middle of the table, flocked by beautifully dressed women from both sides, no doubt regaling them with tales and stories only those of a posh life such as her own would know. She would make brief eye contact with her, and her mother's smile would widen ten fold.

She would call her over.

"Allison, come here, darling."

And she would join the women, walking up to them as they all chorused in praises at her beauty, her shape, her eyes. They would all ask how she was doing in classes, how piano was faring, how were sports going, and with such a beautiful face, how many hearts had she broken yet. And her mother's voice would waltz right in, eyes brimming with pride as she would tell them of her exceptional grades, her high honor roll placement, her recent victory at a piano championship competition, her team's recent victory leading them as their captain, and of a young, attractive boy on the football team that had been watching her games as of recently.

And the women would laugh and congratulate, voices sweet with champagne and compliments, and she would stand there, smile and blush, as her mother would continue to rant about her.

"Lorelei."

She was brought brutally from her reverie back to the dining room of the X-Mansion, looking up to see Kurt waving over to her, simultaneously pointing at an empty seat between himself and their leader.

She gave a small smile and made her way over to him, the young German swiftly getting up from his seat to pull her chair out and push it back in once she was seated.

He watched her as she let her eyes wonder greedily over the freshly baked food.

"Everything looks so good," she mused.

"Don't eat too much of zhis, fraulein. Orono bakes twice as much dessert," he instructed.

Lorelei was too busy eyeing up the delicious food to notice the small glare passed between Nightcrawler and Cyclops, just across the table.

The entire table fell simultaneously quiet as the X-Men leader raised his hand to silence them, before turning to his right.

"I think Lorelei should lead us in grace this year," he replied, the X-Men seated around the table nodding in agreement, save for the now sulking Summers.

She turned wide eyed and surprised up to her leader, who simply winked at her, closed his eyes and stretched out his hands, everyone falling in line and linking hands around the long table. She smiled to herself and took both Logan and Kurt's offered hands and closed her eyes.

"Thank you, dear Lord, for blessing us today for this wonderfully prepared food and this moment of well earned peace with our teammates. We thank you for the continually blessings of a dry, heated home, a roof over our heads, food in the kitchen, electricity throughout the house, money to support our endeavors, and a wonderful, healthy, happy family to celebrate that all with. And we ask that you continue to bless. Amen," she said, the team following suit in a series of amens, all looking over to the new member who lightly gripped Kurt's offered hand, as she quickly wiped away the tears with her sleeve, forming at the corner of her eyes.

If there was anyone that was truly thankful at this time, it was Lorelei.

The leader brought them from their reflective thoughts with a hungry, resolute clap of his hands. "Alright, folks. Let's eat," he said, reaching for the large carving knife beside the turkey.

 

* * *

 

 

He stretched lazily, letting his arms arch to the ceiling as he elicited a small yawn, eyes slightly tearing with exhaustion when he opened them. He trekked slowly from his bathroom to his bed, each step slower and heavier than the last, the thought of sweet sleep making the young mutant drowsier and drowsier. He pulled the worn out novel atop of his chest with him and was nearly by the foot of his bed when a soft clicking sound echoed out from his window's balcony.

The tired X-Man was suddenly rigid with trepidation, muscles taught and limbs poised, as he stood prepared for danger by his bed, watching his storm doors slide open cautiously. But his body immediately relaxed, his back slouching with comfort at the sight of a a familiar brunette, clad as always in her triumphant scarlet battle suit.

"Hello, Kurt," she greeted, the young Nightcrawler immediately grasped by her sweet, seductive voice as she made her way gracefully past his curtains to stand before him.

"Vanda," Kurt gasped, quickly looking about his room and mentally slapping himself at his dinner dress shirt and pants strewn haphazardly on the floor, along with the rest of his dirty laundry. "Vhat are you doink here?"

She gave him a small smile, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. "I came to make sure you were ok. I may have gone a little over board at Kelly's conference," she joked, Kurt's chest shuddering at his compressed laughs, head shaking.

"Yes, but eet looks like everyone bought eet," he replied.

The Scarlet Witch's head cocked downward, watching the X-Man's somewhat saddened eyes carefully.

"Kurt, you know why we had to do what we did, don't you?" she asked, reaching out and carefully taking his hands in hers.

Nightcrawler gave a down-troddened nod, eyes still fixated on the ground. "I know," he replied with a large sigh.

"I'm the sole leader of Genosha now. My father may have gone, but along with his position, I've acquired old enemies that would not hesitate to come after you should they discover we were together," she explained.

"And by openly attacking not only zhe X-Men, but me as vell, ve vould dispel any ozzer suspicions, I know," he finished, as if he had explained that same reason to himself multiple times before.

"It's the only way to make sure you and your team don't get roped up into my world, Kurt," she reasoned, trying desperately to make eye contact with her old friend.

The young German heaved a heavy sigh. "Ve can take care of ourselves, Vanda," he replied.

Wanda Maximoff looked with sympathy on the distraught X-Man, laying a gentle hand on his cheek.

"I could not live with myself if Genosha's enemies ever attacked you, Kurt. I live in a different world than you. The enemies Genosha and I have don't come to the shore, guns a blaze. They work from the inside. They silently threaten our citizens, use scare tactics on passengers en route, and do all they can to discredit our city. You live in a much more physical world, Kurt. The X-Men are known more for soldiers than their politicians. You wouldn't know how to take on my enemies," she explained.

A few moments of silence passed between the two young adults, before Kurt Wagner released another sigh.

"Vhat about us?" he asked, finally looking up in the Scarlet Witch's rich, hazel eyes. "Does this mean..." he asked, his voice quietly trailing off.

"Oh, Kurt," Wanda said, clutching his hands even tighter. "In a perfect world, Kurt, we could. We could have a life together. But we live in a time where our duties are to different things. We can't..."

Both heads suddenly turned to Kurt's bedroom door as it opened wider, a basket stacked high with freshly cleaned clothes atop of a pair of denim legs walked into the room, followed by a voice that to the Scarlet Witch's interest, caused the young German's tail to twitch excitedly along the floor.

"Alright, Kurt, Ororo said she's got the training suits in the washer right now, but she sent me up with the rest," the voice instructed, setting the basket of clothes on his bed, ready to divulge more until she spotted with surprise the other person in the room.

She clasped her hands to her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to just barge in! How did I not sense another heartbeat!? Man, that turkey must've done a number on me," Lorelei exclaimed, her voice slowly trailing off, as her cheeks began to flush. Her eyes suddenly went wide, and her navy suit, cape and mask immediately materialized, a golden aura flickering anxiously around her, as she took a rather weak defensive stance.

"Do I need to have a mask?!" she asked, looking to her teammate. "What's the protocol on this? Is there a protocol!?"

Nightcrawler chuckled. "She's already seen your face. Eet's too late now," he jeered.

"Crap. Wolverine's going to kill me! And my cover at school...blown!" Lorelei exclaimed, slapping her palm against her forehead. But just as the words left her mouth, she caught herself, turning petrified to the intruder. "You didn't hear that!" she exclaimed.

The Scarlet Witch put both hands up in reassurance. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. I was just...stopping by," she replied, a large smile on her face. She stepped around Nightcrawler and extended her hand to the latest recruit.

"You must be the Shadow Healer. It truly is an honor to meet you. You are truly an inspiring force. No gratitude will ever compensate for the good you have done for mutants," the young Maximoff greeted.

"Oh please! Says the Scarlet Witch, who is single-handedly running a mutant city. It should be I who's honored," she replied, firmly shaking Wanda's hand.

The Scarlet Witch smiled. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing here," she suggested.

With the largest, goofiest smile, Lorelei shook her head. "Nope. I know the little scheme the two of you have been playing. You're pretty good actors," she replied.

Nightcrawler and the Scarlet Witch turned to each other in alarm before turning back to the small healer before them. "Lorelei, how'd you-"

"I'm an aura reader, Kurt. I know when you're lying. I kinda just put two and two together," she explained. She looked up at the somewhat worried faces and winked at them. "Don't worry, you're secret's safe with me," she mimicked.

The trio nodded in understanding with each other, Lorelei then releasing a small sigh before slightly bowing before the Scarlet Witch. "It was a pleasure and an honor meeting you. If you'll excuse me," she replied walking over to basket of clothes and picking it up, "Iceman has been looking for his snowflake boxers."

"It was lovely to meet you as well, Shadow Healer," the young Maximoff replied with a nod of her head. The young healer shook her head and flicked a hand at Genosha's leader and extended it to her.

"Please, call me Lorelei. If Wolverine's gonna kill me, may as well go down swinging," she said. The young Maximoff smiled and shook her hand.

"Wanda," she replied.

The young healer smiled at the two, before giving a small wave and making her way out into the hallway.

"She is a remarkable young woman. The X-Men have been in need of a member with strong community relations and a somewhat more commendable public appearance," the Scarlet Witch commented.

Nightcrawler chuckled. "Eet vould seem ve're not really people friendly," he joked.

The Maximoff hummed with humor to herself. "Well with Wolverine leading you, he's was bound to rub off on you some time or another," she replied.

The two stood in comfortable, musing silence with each other, looking absent-mindedly around Kurt's bedroom.

"So," Kurt started, finally breaking the silence, "eez zhis eet? Do ve just valk away?" he asked, down-hearted.

The Scarlet Witch almost flinched at the question, her glazed eyes refusing to answer, as she leaned down to pick a book off of Kurt's chest.

"The Life of Padre Pio," she read aloud, Kurt watching sullenly as the beautiful Maximoff forced her eyes from looking onto his. "I didn't know you were Catholic," she commented, keeping her eyes on the novel as she set it back down.

Kurt silently nodded, the tension in the room growing exponentially with each passing second. Nightcrawler turned to the sound of her dainty sigh and watched her as she slowly sat herself along the edge of his bed. "We're not just walking away, Kurt. In all truth and honesty, there isn't really much to walk away from," she answered.

She waited a few seconds for her words to sink in before lightly patting the comforter beside her. Kurt hesitantly came and sat down beside her.

"I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for me, Kurt. Not just saving my life, but opening my eyes to the flaws of my father and teaching me to be a true champion for my people. And I will admit that we had fun together," she began.

She turned to face him, gently looping her fingers into his and looking straight into his gleaming yellow eyes. "But we just weren't made to be together. If we truly loved each other, then it wouldn't be this easy to tell you good-bye, Kurt," she replied. She lightly cupped his chin and raised it higher so that they were face to face. "You must feel the same way, Kurt?" she asked.

She watched as a small smile formed on his lips.

Wanda gave him an understanding smile. She strode right up to him and placed a tentative kiss on the side of his cheek. "If you ever need anything, Kurt, don't hesitate to contact me. Know that the X-Men have an ally in myself and the people of Genosha," she replied.

Kurt slowly nodded, watching numbly as the Scarlet Witch walked gracefully out onto his balcony, a purple woman in a green garment and a bow and arrows strapped to her back suddenly appearing beside her.

"Farewell, Kurt," she called out to him, the black night and Blink beside her swallowing her up into the dark atmosphere.


	10. A Midnight Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! Next story! Sorry I haven't been leaving chapter notes in much of the previous chapters. My only goal was to post the chapters that are already posted on Fanfiction. Now that we're all caught, I get to sit down and chat with all my lovely readers :) In this chapter, there's going to be a reference to the Avengers, and I need to let you know how this storyline intertwines with the rest of the MCU, because its messy :) So these chapters are a continuation of the first season of the Nickelodeon show Wolverine and the X-Men. However, all of the Avengers and Captain America references are from the live action films. I know. Like I said; messy. When the chapter comes along, I let you know where specifically this story falls within the Marvel live action film timelines. And if it wasn't clear before, I'm not using the Scarlet Witch from the Marvel films. The one used in this story is from the Wolverine and the X-Men series. Also, neat little fact, this story will reference a lot of events from the X-Men: Evolution series. I'm using that series as kind of a history for these characters. Except for the last season with Apocalypse. Because that is what this story is about. Yep. 
> 
> Messy..
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also, life points to anyone who can spot the little Transformers movie reference I put in, just for shits and giggles.

"Medical degree at Princeton. Had your own practice for 17 years. Rose, you may just be the exact person we're looking for," the young healer beamed, turning excitedly towards the older woman beside her.

The two were seated in two plastic lawn chairs, a make shift table of bricks and plywood between them with a manila folder and a small stack of papers strewn across the table top, Lorelei leafing through a packet in her hand.

Rose smiled widely.

"Oh, you have no idea how much this would mean to me! Ever since the MRD trashed my office and forced me to close my practice, I've been going completely crazy with nothing to do," the middle-aged mother of 4 admitted.

Rose Mejia, up until a month ago, had been the lead physician and co-founder of a renowned private practice in the Bronx. But after being reported into the MRD for offering care to non-registered mutant patients long after Senator Kelly's MRA's were passed, she was forced to shut down her practice.

And as a single mother of 4 young boys, this would not do. But try as she might, her PhD from Notre Dame could not break through the restrictions placed at every medical practice in the city by Senator Kelly himself, preventing her from treating patients ever again. 

So when a neighbor of hers relayed to her of a clinic starting up in North Salem of all places, looking to treat all, she didn’t hesitate to jump at the chance. 

How the woman before her was able to keep word of her new establishment well-circulated throughout the city yet away from the wrong ears would still remain a mystery to her. 

The Shadow Healer nodded with understanding. "Well, now you can treat mutants all the live long day. And probably under a little less scrutiny," the young girl replied to the non-mutant, a small smile between her chilled cheeks, the heating in the abandoned factory not yet established. 

The mother looked on to the woman before her, beautifully full curls pinned up and draping down in waves, complementing a wonderful yet young face, large luminous eyes encircled with a large, dark mask, her long cape draped down over the arm rest of her plastic chair. Here, she could finally see the infamous Shadow Healer before her. Most of what she had heard were mere tidbits of speculation, children claiming to have seen her flying above in the dark of night, adults swearing they spotted her in the bright of day amongst the rooftops, not many able to get footage of her, which at best had been a faraway, blurry glance at the glowing legend of the streets. She had never given a second thought as to who or what she was like. For so long she had merely associated the Shadow Healer with just that; the shadows. 

It seemed that this legend of the night, as many had often branded her, was almost a ghost story of the streets of New York City. She had an aura of secrecy around her, allowing imaginations to go wild on Guardian of the Night some had branded her as. Families and friends would gather for holidays, birthdays or for casual eating, and she was always bound to come up in conversation. Her name was commonplace amongst a household. Someone would mention a sighting of her near Queens. Another would chime in and say her neighbor had been healed from their 3rd degree burns from a minor grilling accident. Another would say that a wheel chair-bound co-worker from the office was suddenly up and walking around, regaling others of the Shadow Healer slipping through their window in the dead of night. Another would add that their daughter or son had a friend from school that was telling everyone the Shadow Healer had walked them home late one night coming home from basketball practice. Another, with tears welling in their eyes, would beam of how they had gone to seen their mother in the convalescing home, who had been riddled with Alzheimer's, suddenly recognize her and tell how a caped woman with golden hair came to her bedside the night before.

And that's why New York had taken such pride in this young woman. They had called her their own. Because she helped all. Children and elderly. Mothers and fathers. Natives and refugees. The rich and the poor. The homeless and the wealthy. The popular and the lonely. The mob leaders and the peace keepers. The CEO's and the bartenders. The activist and the pacifists. The humans and the mutants. Caucasian, African, Spanish, Asian, Indian, Australian, Italian, Irish, Portuguese, Brazilian, Canadian, Polish; she helped everyone. She was a beacon of hope that everyone seemed to cling to; caused everyone to glance excitedly out their window in the dark of night for just a little peak at the impossible.

She had the loyalty of the entire city behind her, and she didn't even know it. She had walked in humbly, almost shyly, and fiercely shook Rose's hand as if she had been just as excited to meet her as she was to meet the living legend. And here she was, starting up an under-the-radar hospital for mutants. 

Rose could not help but feel her heart well with light just simply sitting in the presence of someone so self-giving. So impossible yet possible in her actions. 

And it was now, that the young doctor came to a mind-boggling conclusion. 

The Shadow Healer was _human_.

It was easy to forget that this incredible life before her actually had a life. It was so easy to place these heroes over-running New York on pedestals as fantastical beings, that in all truth, without the mask, were as ordinary as the people they served and protected. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of life that other human half of her led. What did those beautiful big eyes look at during the light of day? What did those small hands and long fingers touch while the sun was up? Where had those legs traveled to while the rest of the world bustled around? 

She couldn't help but wonder if she had ever met her before. If maybe she had passed her on the streets, or held the door open for her at a coffee shop, none the wiser that it was for a hero, a champion of the people who could soar through the night sky like a star straight from outer space.

And as a mother of 4 rambunctious boys, she couldn't help but look upon the hero's cheeks, slowly waning of their child-like roundness and wide eyes with pure fondness.

"You know _my_ name. Don't suppose I get to know yours," she lightly joked, wringing her fingers together out of slight nervousness, the young healer looking up from the papers, slightly distracted, to throw the older woman a wide smile. 

"Sorry. The Avengers might be into blurting out their names, but I'm into the old-fashioned secret identities," she responded politely, gesturing vaguely to her mask. 

Rose Mejia nodded in understanding, smiling at the Tony Stark reference.

"Guess, I'll have to live with 'The Shadow Healer.' Or 'Boss,'" she joked.

The caped hero shuddered with compressed laughter, cheeks flushing pink, waving out her hand to Rose. "No, please, don't call me Boss. We're more like partners-in-crime, anyway. Then again, Shadow Healer is a mouth-full. I'm working on another alias at the moment, and hopefully I can have it to you soon," she replied.

Rose gave a loud, hearty laugh. This girl was a piece of work! Rose knew she was going to like her. 

The mother watched as the young girl gave another once-over the sheets before placing them on the table, and looking up at her.

"Well, Rose, we would love to have you apart of the team," she replied, extending her hand across the makeshift table. 

Rose Mejia couldn't help but smile and fiercely shook her hand.

"You said team?" Rose asked.

As if on cue, a loud crash echoed across the floor, Rose watching at the Shadow Healer cringed, and gave heavy tired sigh, two voices growing louder and closer. 

“Sorry! Sorry! My bad!” 

“Garf, just let me does this, alright!”

Rose watched as a young, red-headed boy with intense freckles skate boarded right up to them, a tall dark haired man with stained haz-mat suit on, a mask dangling from his hand.

“Please tell me that wasn’t something important,” the Shadow Healer grumbled, rubbing a tired hand along the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 

“S’all good, s’all good. Nothing important,” he said, holding out his hands in an attempt to relax the clearly stressed vigilante. 

“ _Right_. ‘Cause Garf, here, knows _exactly_ what he’s doing,” the older man chided sarcastically.

“Uh, Rose, this is Garfield and his older cousin, Barry. They’re the maintenance workers, so far for the hospital. Barry, Garfield, this is Rose, our new Chief Doctor,” she replied, gesturing with a hand between them, still rubbing at her nose in a stressful gesture.

“Nice to meet you,” Barry replied, shaking Rose’s hand, the lead Doctor then exchanging handshakes with the hyper young boy beside him. 

“What’s the damage, Barry?” Lorelei asked, finally opening her eyes to address the former contractor. 

“The building’s actually not in half-bad shape, for the amount of time it’s just been sitting here. I’ve got a shipment coming in by the end of the week for the flooring. I’ll finish up with electrical wiring before replacing the walls, but so far so good,” he replied. 

“And what did you just break, Garfield?” she asked, the dread in her voice already hinting she wasn’t going to like the answer. 

“No worries, no worries! Just welding a few pipes together, and got a little carried away,” he replied, lifting his hand out from his side and letting a few flames dance along his finger-tips, Rose’s eyes noticeably widening. 

Of course she’d employ mutants. 

Rose would have to remind herself that they had every right to have a job. Just because her previous office tested for them, doesn’t mean it was right.

Suddenly, they all turned to the sound of a ringing chime, Lorelei reaching up to put a finger in her ear, everyone watching with varying levels of amazement, as an ear piece slowly shifted out from her ear along her face, extending a microphone close to her lips. 

“Shadow Healer, go ahead…right now?...yeah…yep, be there in a sec.” 

She turned back to the group. 

“Sorry, guys. Duty calls. I’ll check back in with you guys later tonight for a progress report. Garfield, just…tone-it down on the flames. Rose, thank you so much for today! We’re excited to have you with us! If it works for you, I’d like to start with you tomorrow, get shipments out for equipment and supplies,” she explained, Rose, Barry and Garfield nodding in response. 

She gave them a salute. “See you soon,” she called, her body suddenly outlined with gold, her body levitating from the ground then taking off through a nearby open window.

 

* * *

 

 

"You know how I hate to be kept waiting."

All heads turned to the end of the table, faces shrouded in darkness, a simple light above illuminating only the simple metallic table they were seated around. 

"Patience, Mister Essex. He will be here shortly," came a reply from off to the left side of the table. 

Said mutant leaned out from the shadows to pound his fist with agitation against the table, the light of above casting the gene manipulator's form into view, shadows playing along his defined features. 

"Do not lecture me in patience, Mastermind. I have been nothing but tolerant with your partner's absence and lack of contact. And it's Sinister, to you," Nathaniel Essex snarled, the violent pink gem seated atop his hairline glowing like a menacing threat to those seated at the table. 

The mutant illusionist pulled himself reluctantly from the darkness of the table's surroundings, his face slowly stepping into the pool of light before him. His askew, black soot hair blended in with the shadows around him, his pale face and wide eyes standing out in the darkness. He turned with an indignant look at Sinister. 

"Forgive me, _Mr. Essex_ , but I was under the impression that you did not need to be lead on a leash," Mastermind cynically remarked, voice pretentious and confident.

Sinister could only release a deep snarl, before he was interrupted by a cleared throat, Nathaniel Essex and Jason Wyngarde turning to the other side of the table, Sebastian Shaw emerging from the darkness, settling his chin in his interlocked fingers, as he peered with amusement at the two. 

"If I had known we were dealing with school children, I would've walked away. Right, Harry?" Sebastian grumbled, turning to the space behind him. 

And the sound of his name being called, Black Bishop pulled loose from the shadows beside his compatriot and gave a deep, throaty chuckle. 

"Indeed," he replied. 

"As I recall, the Hellfire Club hasn't contributed anything to swear their allegiance," Sinister replied, looking almost distastefully at the Victorian dressed men, "I have provided my warriors at his beck-and-call and _Mr. Wyngarde_ here provided a somewhat mediocre Sentinel spectacle that was supposed to be just a little more indestructible," he taunted, leaning his neck just enough to see the illusionist bristle at the sound of his identity. 

"And where are those lackeys, hhmmm, Mr. Essex? Off chasing their tails or rubber balls, I can imagine," Mastermind scoffed, Sinister's eyes glaring as he opened his mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by another voice.

"And vhat am I? Left-overs?! I created zhe most efficient Cure zhe public's ever seen zhat almost killed Wolverine and a contagion zhat nearly wiped out all of Africa!" Johann Schmidt roared, his hardened red face slicing through the shadows to glare with rage upon the gene manipulator. 

Sinister hummed a chuckle. "Emphasis on _almost_ and _nearly_ , Doctor," he commented playfully, watching with satisfaction as the Red Skull went rigid with anger.

"Had it not been for zhat pesky healer, my experiments vould have been a complete success!" the former head of the Nazis's science division roared.

"I must admit she is becoming quite a problem," Mastermind commented, rubbing his chin in thought as he was reminded of the presumptuous vigilante and how she had destroyed his illusion in a matter of minutes.

"And she is why I have all called upon you to meet."

All heads turned to the opposite head of the table, watching with mixed emotions as a bald man stepped forward from the dark, face covered in intricate, geometrical tattoos, clothed in a simple dark robe.

 

* * *

 

 

 "I'm here. I'm here. I'm here." 

The three, young X-Men turned to the tower's north ceiling window, watching as their newest teammate slipped in through the opening and slowly descended beside them, slowly shedding her costume to reveal an X-Men styled sweatshirt and black running joggers.

"Where have you been?" Bobby asked, slouched comfortably in a swivel chair, both legs up and resting on one of the several desks the Protectors had pilfered from the basement supply room. 

"Sorry, sorry. Was kind of getting stir crazy. Needed a good fly before school," she replied, leaning comfortably against a metal filing cabinet beside Nightcrawler, who looked as if he had just climbed out of bed, hair slightly askew, eyes droopy and pajamas crisp with wrinkles. 

He gave her a tired smile and nod n hello. 

On second glance, it looked as if the entire group had been pulled brutally from their beds, mid sleep. Bobby was already dozing off on the chair in a pair of Santa Claus themed boxers and a red shirt with an animated, bright blue arc-reactor in the center chest, his feet covered with mix-matched socks. Kitty was nimbly seated on an empty desk top, wearing her regular pink, cat pajamas, a thick throw blanket draped over her shoulders, her hair in the messiest of buns with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

"You guys look like you just stumbled out of bed," Lorelei lightly commented. 

She felt the filing cabinet vibrate beneath her from Kurt's warm, sticky chuckle. "Zhat eez zhe understatement of zhe century," he quietly quipped, running a lazy hand down his face. 

Bobby responded with a sharp snort. "Yeah, d'ya see Kitty? Looks like she screwed up phasing through a tornado," the ice mutant light-heartedly commented, jabbing is thumb in the direction of the phaser. 

If looks could kill, Iceman would be a pile of bones in a grave with the glare the young Pryde sent him. " 'Least I wasn't sucking my thumb, snuggling with a Black Widow stuff toy," she threw back, the pale Drake quickly turning a few bright shades of pink.

Kurt snickered beside her. "You still have zhat zhing, Bobby?" he gently laughed.

Shadowcat gave a single, resolute laugh. "Those were the first things he reordered after the explosion. He's still got his dolls lined up along his bureau and all of his posters on his walls," she replied, a wide smile on her face as she watched the ice mutant before her try to regain some composure.

"Those are genuine action figures!" he exclaimed, the young healer judging by the frustration in his voice that he had defended his toy collection multiple times before.

"Jokes aside, though, why _are_ we calling a meeting now at 5 in the morning? What's the rush?" the healer asked. 

The laughs and grumbles quickly died down, Kitty the first to speak after taking another large chug from her mug. "I've hooked up our computer systems to compile any mutant sightings from the internet, help us track down Angel’s whereabouts. It pulls data from news reports, social networks, blogs, anti-mutant cites, you name it." 

Bobby slid his feet off of the desk and began typing on the main computer. "Kitty put in keywords that the algorithm searches for. The computer got a hit this morning at 4:30 on Twitter. Someone posted a picture with the caption 'Metal Angel' and this picture," he explained. 

Kurt and Lorelei gathered behind the ice mutant and peered at the screen, watching as he enlarged a somewhat blurry photo of Archangel, off in the distance from the photographer, hovering above a yard of shipping crates, a strip of water lining the background, the night sky just a shade lighter from the sun that had barely touched the horizon. 

"Do we know where this is?" Lorelei asked. 

"I referenced a few photos and I think that's along the East River in the Upper East Side," Bobby replied. 

"Well, whenever that photo was uploaded, Warren's most likely long gone by now, whatever he was doing over there," Lorelei commented. 

Bobby swiveled around to face her with a large smile on his face. "Ah, but it doesn't end there," he replied, turning back to the computer screen.

"LadysMan_2117 was so preoccupied with Warren, that he didn't even realize she took a picture of a lot more than just Archangel," he explained, pulling up the original photo again, this time zooming in on the ground below Warren, amongst the shipping crates, Lorelei catching sight of a blue blur and black shadow beside it. 

"What's...that?" Lorelei asked.

As if on cue, Bobby began to enhance the image quality, large pixels turning into smooth and even textured. 

Suddenly the entire screen was taken up by a tall man, a blur of black over his head, a royal blue onesie suit, a metallic blob over his chest glinting in the light of the sun, with an electric yellow shoulder cape, a gleaming blue gem nestled on his forehead, black sunglasses covering his eyes. He was facing a man, who had his back to the screen, simply shrouded in a dark robe from head to foot.

"Do ve know who zhey are?" Kurt asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Nope. Nothing on the internet, at least," Bobby replied, leaning once again back in his seat, arms crossed behind his head. 

"Do we assume they're associated with Warren?" Kitty asked, leaning from her spot to get a better look at the screen.

"Well, look at the blue gem on his head," Lorelei commented, pointing at the blue-clad man, "It's looks just like the one Warren has." 

"So, he eez one of Sinister's lackeys," Kurt commented. 

"Not just that. If he's got one of those mind control gems like Warren, he's not there of his own free will," Lorelei added. 

"So now we gotta pull _two_ out of the fire," Kitty replied heavily, the new status of the situation at hand properly hitting the Protectors. 

"But you said it was pure luck you cracked Warren's gem. How' we gonna save this dude?" Bobby asked. 

Kitty, Kurt and Bobby subconsciously turned to the legendary Shadow Healer, waiting almost expectantly for her to interject. The long-time X-Men couldn’t help but notice the visible twinge that crossed the young Healer’s face at Bobby’s comment before reforming back into her confident, wide-eyed and positive face.

"We gotta find out more about these gems. Someone's gotta make 'em, right?" Lorelei asked. 

"So what? Trace it back to the seller, assuming there is one?" Kitty asked. 

"Hell yeah there's a seller. Can you picture Sinister sittin' around, whittling these little things?" Bobby asked. 

"I think I have a guy that could help point us in the right direction. And who may be able to help us pin down a location for Warren and his new buddy," Lorelei replied. 

"Do you know how sketchy you sound when you say that? That you have a _guy_?" Bobby asked, turning to the healer behind him, playful yet hesitant grin on his face. 

Lorelei gave him a bemused scowl and shrugged her shoulder. "Well, I do have a guy. Just because I met him on the streets, doesn't mean he's a sketchy dude," she replied defensively. “I mean, you trusted _me_ with the mansion keys.” 

The ice mutant shrugged his shoulders and put slack arms in the air, surrendering. 

"Alright, so set up a meeting with him, we'll see if we can get a supplier from him and hopefully find out a little bit more about these mind-controlling gems," Kitty reiterated, Lorelei nodding along. 

"Our mission doesn't end there, though," the healer continued, materializing her cape alone, and reaching into a hidden pocket, pulled out several large sheets of paper, Bobby almost pouting at the feat. 

“Still think I should’ve gotten a cape,” he grumbled to himself, Kitty rolling her eyes in response and giving the young Drake a solid flick to the ear.

Kurt gave a tired chuckle. "Does it ever?" he said to the healer, the small group watching the newest recruit tack the large papers to the makeshift cork board hanging from a rafter above them, each one printed with a blown up photo. 

"Who are these guys?" Bobby asked, peering up at the young faces.

"These are all of the mutant students at Bayville this year," Lorelei replied. 

She pointed at the first one and slowly made her way down the row. "Shelby Cummings, Garfield Reynolds, Maria Alfonso, and Alex Knight."

"Wait, these are all the mutants at Bayville? How do you know?" Kitty asked, turning briefly towards the healer before peering back up at the student photos. 

"My anatomical sight. I can see who has the X-Gene, and whether it's being expressed or not," she replied, the entire group turning to her with shocked faces, eyes wide with an unreadable emotion. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, slow down. You're saying that you can just...walk down the street, and you know who's a mutant and who's not?" Bobby asked. 

The healer looked between them with a slightly confused frown. 

"Eh...yeah…" she replied skeptically. 

"Zhat's incredible," Kurt commented with astonishment, closely observing the girl beside him with a new set of eyes.

"Dude, that's wicked! How come you never told us!?" Bobby exclaimed. 

The healer gave a small shoulder shrug. "You never asked," Lorelei countered simply.

"So who's powers have manifested already?" Kitty asked, nodding back up to the photos and the subject at hand.

"Only Maria and Garfield's so far. I'm not entirely worried about Garfield. He doesn't seem to be the kid to use them outwardly in school, but I've been keeping an eye on him just in case," Lorelei explained, gesturing with an upturn of her chin to the young red head. "I've been monitoring Maria closely. It doesn't appear that she's at all aware of her powers, so I have to make sure to be there when it all hits her." 

"Vhat about zhe ozzers?" Kurt asked, glancing at the other 2 students. 

"Predicting when someone's power's will manifest and what they are is a little trickier. These kids could show them in the next few hours, next few weeks, or the next few decades. It's all about their outside influences. It's usually stress from the surrounding environment that will trigger the X-Gene," Lorelei explained. 

"But you know what Garfield and Maria can do?" Kitty asked. 

Lorelei nodded. "Garfield is a pyrokinetic and Maria has some sort of mind alteration. My best guess would be precognitive abilities, but I'm not 100% sure." 

"Alright, so you want us to be on the ready if anything hairy goes down at Bayville with these guys? No problem," Bobby replied nonchalantly, bending his arms around to casually rest his head against his hands, his eyes slightly closing with sleep. 

"For a number of reasons, _this_ being one of them," Lorelei replied, pulling yet another photo out of her cape and tacking it to the middle of the bottom half of the board, the X-men leaning in to study a mugshot of a young brunet with wide rimmed glasses more closely. 

"His name is Michael Carlson. He's a freshman at Bayville. Something struck me as weird though, when I first met him. Call it a healer's intuition, call it a sixth sense, who knows. But I did a little digging into this kid, and it turns out no one at the school has ever seen or met his parents before. He's always been dropped off and picked up by a long black limousine, and that's it," Lorelei explained. 

Kitty just shrugged. "So he's got rich folks. Why so suspicious?" she asked. 

"I didn't really know, until Wolverine had me do a quick fly by over Senator Kelly's last rally for surveillance," Lorelei replied. 

"And?" Kurt pondered. 

Lorelei looked between her teammates. "Mikey Carlson is Robert Kelly's son." 

The room seemed to explode. "WHAT!?"Kurt and Bobby exclaimed at the same time, at which Kitty spit out her mouthful of hot coffee, the spew headed straight for the nearby Iceman. Everyone in the room seeming to hold their breath, eyes closing shut and turning away in fear, Bobby flinching instinctively for the inevitable burning impact.

Not hearing the unpreventable scream that should've followed, Kurt, Kitty, Bobby and Lorelei gingerly peeled their eyes open, all staring in amazement at the sparkling gold shield that had materialized in front of Iceman, still smoking from where the hot hazelnut blend had immediately evaporated. 3 pairs of a wide eyes turned to the healer, who simply looked at the shield and down at her glowing hands in amazement. 

"How...why...," Lorelei whispered, everyone watching now with intrigue as Lorelei looked with puzzlement at the shield, slowly raising her arm to call off the creation, the shield suddenly bursting into a small firework of gold that slowly fell to the floor like snowflakes before disappearing into the wood.

"I...sorry...I didn't..." Lorelei stuttered uncertainly, still looking warily down at her hands. 

Bobby slowly recovered from the initial shock and eventually turned to the healer beside him. "Don't worry 'bout it, Lor. Thanks for the save," Bobby replied, all the more chipper. 

Kurt looked on to the trembling girl with concern as she peered at her hands in fear, as if they would at any moment snap back and bite her. He couldn’t help but look back at those days when young mutants used to rampage across the institute, the young Professor then engaging each and every one of them in training exercises and meditative solutions for their developing powers, each student at one time or another peering at their body with the same fearful bewilderment Lorelei was glancing at herself now with. He slowly turned back to his other teammates, knowing the last thing the young healer would want to do was talk about a moment where she had lost control, even though it had turned out for the better. 

He'd prod her about it later. 

"So. Back to zhe problem at hand. Are you certain zhis kid eez Senator Kelly's son?" Kurt asked, watching as the healer pulled herself from her thoughts to address the team, nodding with a still gaping mouth. 

"Uh...yeah. Michael has half the genetic make-up of his father's, so yeah, he's an apple from the ole' tree," she replied.

Bobby whistled. "Well, damn." 

"The stakes are even higher now to make sure those kids don't publicize their powers. Kelly gets one whiff of possible mutant danger in his son's high school and he'll take public education away for good in New York for mutants," Kitty explained gravely. 

"Gotta wonder why the kid took on a different last name," Bobby commented. 

"Probably to avoid zhe mob of angry mutants lookink to tear apart heez fazzer," Kurt replied. "Lucky for him, he can pull eet off. He doesn't look much like zhe Senator. " 

At that, Kitty's face suddenly brightened, her mouth wide with excitement. "That's right! Our Protector's disguises are all set and ready to go! Come on, Bobby, help me bring 'em up!" she exclaimed, grabbing Iceman roughly by his shirt and dragging him behind her as she phased through the floor. 

Kurt turned slowly to the healer, debating on whether to release the words bubbling up in his mouth. No mutant ever liked to talk intimately about their powers, especially in these moments, when they were brutally reminded theses powers were no more predictable than the winter season in New England. But before he had a chance to fully think through the repercussions, they were out of his mouth. 

"Zhat's vhy you're hesitant about goink up against Varren again," Kurt commented, pulling the healer from her surface thoughts. She raised her eyebrows for clarification, the young German nodding with the side of his head to where Bobby had been previously sitting. 

"You veren't in control vhen you nicked Varren's stone," Kurt continued, watching Lorelei's face slowly fall to the ground. He waited patiently as she let out a small sigh. 

"I've been talking to Hank about it. We're trying to figure out if it's because I'm losing control or my powers are just evolving," she explained meekly. 

Kurt nodded in understanding, thinking back to their conversation on the Halloween night. 

 _It was...hard at first. Really hard. My powers kind of came all at once...and hard. It took me a long time to finally find some control over them, and even then, they kind of had a mind of their own._  

"Vhat do you zhink eez goink on?" he asked. The young healer looked up at him and simply shrugged.

"It's anybody's guess," she replied, even smaller. 

Kurt couldn't help but feel truly sorry and afraid for his new teammate. He was fortunate to have had Professor Xavier when he did to help with either his powers or any of the other institute children. 

Both X-Men turned to the sound of Kitty and Bobby phasing through the floor, watching with mixed emotions as she pulled with her a clothes rack, 4 black bags hanging from it.

Grabbing the four hangars, she phased the contents out from underneath the black covers, letting them slip to the floor, the Protectors studying their new suits.

Lorelei smiled. "These are perfect."

 

* * *

 

 

"You're telling me that this savage, smooth talker had no friends to sit with?" the healer asked skeptically, waving vaguely to the tall blonde beside her. 

With a large ham and cheese sandwich stuffed half way into his mouth, Owen's eyes first widened in confusion, then snapped back to their lackadaisical size, eyebrows arching sadistically. 

"Savage, smooth talker, huh? Alright, Howlett, now I _know_ you got the hots for me," he purred, mouth full of somewhat processed sandwich sloshing around. 

Lorelei hummed a response, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, cause that mushy sandwich churning in your mouth right now is a big turn on," she quipped. 

Owen raised his eyebrows cheekily as he roughly swallowed his food. 

"Whatever works," he replied with obnoxious seduction, Lorelei laughing in return. 

"Seriously, though. I mean, I'm flattered for the company. But you must have other friends you're ditching for me," she replied, making sure her apple slice had scooped up an ample amount of peanut butter before popping it into her mouth.

Owen gave a simple shrug of his right shoulder. “More of a drifter in this school. No one’s really worth getting to know for very long,” he replied somberly, before turning playfully to his lunch mate with excited eyes. “Except for you, Howlett. You, my friend, are the most unpredictable person I’ve ever met,” he purred.

“Don’t worry, Scooby Doo. It won’t take you long to sift through this mystery,” she replied sarcastically. “So why isn’t anyone here worth knowing?” 

Another signature, casual shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. No one’s…no one’s interesting anymore. Everyone wants to be like the person next to them. We’re all carbon copies, here, of each other. You meet one person, you’ve met ‘em all,” he replied, a little more serious than normal, though Lorelei could still hear that rebellious, flippant tone underneath, that Owen really just did not care.

He was content with himself and that was enough for him.

He truly was a gifted drifter.

“Maybe they’re too scared. They’re too unsure of who they are, so in an effort to make their lives easier, they just go and be like someone else,” she offered, looking closely at the different tables spread throughout the cafeteria.

It was easy to see the boundaries created by interests, sports, gender and hobbies that separated a table from another. And even within the same tables, there wasn’t a large variety from student to student. 

“Of what?! I don’t get what everyone’s so worried about!” Owen replied, turning to his new friend for a reply, watching as her eyes fell from one table to another. 

“It’s for approval. We look to others for permission, because it’s all up to them where we end up in society. In a permanent position,” she replied gesturing with her head to the students seated at the dozens of tables around them, “or a temporary one,” she finished, turning back to Owen. 

He placed his palm on his chest in a playful gesture. “You’re saying I’m a drifter because no one wants me to stick around?” he asked. 

“Sure, but out of jealousy. You’re content with yourself. You don’t need anyone to approve of you, and that scares people a little,” she replied, a fond smile on her lips. She suddenly spotted something over the young man’s shoulder and turned back to him playfully. “Speaking of someone you’ve got the hots for,” she replied cheekily. 

Owen quickly turned to his side, turning back to scowl at the new student as Shelby Cummings made her way into the cafeteria, flanked by two of her fellow soccer teammates. 

He chuckled dryly, Lorelei watching with amusement as deep reds oozed from the boy beside her, his heart rate rising exponentially along with his body’s sweat production. “Yeah. Speaking of someone who simultaneously scares me, too,” he quipped. 

“We haven’t properly met yet, but she can’t be all that bad,” Lorelei commented, watching as the Senior soccer captain made her way to the lunch line, glancing with minimal interest at the phone in her hand as her two sidekicks continued to babble on, desperately trying to peak their captain’s interest in their conversation.

Owen turned with a cheeky smile and an up-turned eyebrow to his new classmate beside him. “ _Right_. You know what, you said you were looking into joining the school’s basketball team. Well, you want a tryout, Shelby’s your ticket in. And something wicked this way comes,” Owen answered, tipping with his chin past the young healer, who turned to find said person by herself for the moment, scanning through the trays of fruit cups. 

Owen chuckled at the immediate slight paling if Lorelei’s face. “You said you haven’t properly met. Well, now’s your chance. You know, if you’re not too scared,” he chided. 

In all truth, Lorelei was terrified. 

But with all honesty, she was terrified every time she stepped into that high school. 

Trying to be herself, something she had never been before in her entire life, with so many kids surrounding her that were somewhat experienced in that department, was much more frightening to her than say a 200-foot-tall mutant-hunting robot or mind-controlled former teammate. 

The young healer took a deep breath, the exhale tremoring slightly. 

She turned back to Owen, holding her fist out to him. “I might need you to tap in,” she commented, almost in a pleading tone. 

Owen nodded with a smile, and pounded her fist. “I got your back, Howlett,” he reassured. 

The new student took another breath, nervously brushing at her black plaid skirt and cream turtle neck before planting her brown boot firmly on the ground and walked up to Shelby Cummings, feeling eyes slowly turning to watch her. 

“Shelby?”

Said senior glanced briefly up from the fruit cups in front of her, a bored expression on her face before turning eyes back down to the table. 

“Hi, I’m Lorelei. I’m new to Bayville.” 

 _Nice one, Lorelei,_ she grumbled to herself. 

_How about after this, you ask her to cuddle up with a bwanky and watch Barney with you and eat Lunchables?_

She slowly tried to steady her trembling hands, as she turned back to the young Cummings. 

“I was, uh…I was wondering if I could possibly tryout for the basketball team. I know the team’s been practicing until the season starts up after break.” 

 _That’s good,_ she congratulated to herself. _Show her your interest and that you’ve kept up with the team’s events._  

Still no response. 

Nothing.

Shelby Cummings didn’t even look the least bit phased by her stuttering babble talk, still reaching casually down to pick up a cup every now and then, giving it an experimental shake or peering leeringly into its contents. 

She should just turn away, now. 

She clearly wasn’t giving her the time of day, and people were starting to catch on to the blubbering new kid who was still pestering the most popular girl in Bayville and just couldn’t take a hint.

But she was frozen to the spot. Nervousness and anxiety had made her limbs completely immobile. 

So, like the naturally-born idiot that she was, she kept talking. 

“I was actually point guard on my last school’s team. I did a bunch of summers in the Allstar Rocket’s camp at Yale. I…uh, actually got to meet Lebron James. He was really cool. Played with us for a few of the practices. But he had, you know, games to win, so he didn’t spend more than a week with us. But it was still pretty cool.” 

Throughout her entire, long-winded monologue, Shelby Cummings had turned down to her phone at the sound of a loud chime, smiling to herself as she got lost in the conversation behind the screen. 

Lorelei Howlett was so preoccupied with her one-sided conversation at her receiving ear, Shelby Cummings, who was too engrossed with her phone that she began walking away from the table and straight towards the still immobile young healer, that neither student was paying attention to their surroundings. Garfield Reynolds was keeping his attention on the surrounding entrances, eyes peeled for a staff member that would chastise him _again_ for skate-boarding in the school. Maria Alfonso was walking backwards from her table, taking orders from the friends as she made her way to the snack line. Mikey Carlson (Kelly) had his head turned down to the ground, as per usual, on his way for another napkin. Alex Knight had eyes closed in ecstasy, a song coursing from the MP3 player in his hands through his ears. And Owen Scott was making his way from his table, ready to pull his desperate friend from her torture, watching now at the inevitable explosion.

And then suddenly, everything stopped as Shelby, Lorelei, Garfield, Maria, Alex and Mikey all crashed into each other, everyone landing on the ground hard, Garfield’s skateboard flying off onto a nearby table, sending food exploding everywhere.

There were yelps and squeals of disgust, most students within a 6 foot radius covered in mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits and gravy-covered turkey, but one particular moan caught Owen’s attention still frozen at the mess in front of him.

His eyes trained down to Maria Alfonso, who was tightly gripping her head in what seemed like in intense pain, eyelids scrunched hard together. 

What he could not see were the intense images flying through the young girl’s mind, her brain almost burning as her vivid, reoccurring dreams came to life within her subconscious. And she watched, once again, as a blonde figure stood proud, arms crossed confidently across her chest, cape blowing magnificently behind her. Behind the heroine stood many more young people, some simply smiling up her. Others with fire for hair, or glowing blue ovals circling around them, or fiery red swords in each hand. 

But suddenly the majestic blonde figure at the front of the group, who had up until this point, had a blurred face, now was suddenly painted with wide, grey eyes, a definitive nose and rosy lips.

And suddenly, Maria Alfonso ripped her eyes open with clear realization, watching across from her as an older, blond student bent down to help a new student she hadn’t seen before from the ground, gravy and beans littering her skirt and turtle neck.

That was the girl.

The girl from her dreams with the billowing cape, the caramel, wavy hair, the dark blue suit and with golden light that seemed to stick to her like tape.

She was there. 

Right in front of her. 

So why was Bayville’s new student always in her dreams, dressed like a super hero, with so many other people around her?

And why, at the end of every dream, did she always end up on the ground, a clear hole where her heart should be, covered completely in blood, dead?

 

* * *

 

 

"I feel horrible for doing this," Jean commented nervously, rubbing her hand absent-mindedly along her opposite arm, gaze fixed on the ground even as Scott came to place a comforting hand on her shoulder 

Ororo nodded with understanding. "As do I. I do not feel right keeping things from the children," she replied. 

"That's the problem." 

All heads turned to the entrance of the underground sub-unit as their fearless leader strode in, the large magnetic doors sealing shut behind him with an ominous thud.

"There not kids anymore. They're full-fledged X-Men. That's why we feel weird keeping things from them," he explained, coming to stand beside Hank, Ororo, Scott and Jean, eyes falling on a familiar glass dome, their mentor deep in sleep within. 

"Wow, Logan. Didn't know you had it in you to care," Scott threw at his leader, more strained from the predicament at hand than looking to pick yet another fight with his leader. 

"About you, Summers? I could give two shits about you. Jus' dunno why I'mma leader if I can't lead a full team," he commandeered, and that statement alone settled heavily in everyone's minds. 

How were they supposed to go about doing this? 

It had been only a few weeks since the Professor had contacted Logan for the second time, the footage full of static and background noise, a somewhat perturbed Professor urgently informing the present-day X-Men leader to meet him again in 2 weeks’ time with Beast, Storm, Cyclops and Jean, and no one else. 

That he stressed explicitly. 

That any information he was going to relay to them was to stay away from Kurt, Kitty, Bobby and Lorelei's ears.

The problem was that they were smart children, the Professor himself having a large part in that. How were they supposed to act as a team, yet hide crucial information from them at the same time? It was only a matter of time before they caught on. 

But the older members of the X-Men weren't allowed any more time to dwell within their deep thoughts as a familiar white fog fell over the underground room, a thick cloud settling along their feet. They all stared in front of them expectantly, watching as their mentor came forth from the mist. 

"Hey, Chuck," Logan greeted. 

"Good to see you, Logan. It's good to see all of you," he replied, nodding to his former students with fondness.

"Not to rush reunions and all, but you kinda left us in a hurry last time, Chuck. Everything alright?" Logan asked. 

"And why do we have to keep these meetings on a down-low around the others?" Scott added. 

Charles Xavier nodded with understanding at their curiosity. "To answer your question, Logan, our last meeting was cut a bit short due to some outside interference. Apparently, around the more populated areas, there are frequency jammers that were interfering with Cerebro. Most of the nation's population is more concentrated down in the Southern region. There are very few establishments here in Connecticut, so I believe our meetings should be static free for now," he explained.

"But how is that possible?" Hank asked. "Cerebro runs on a quantum energy matrix. The frequency it operates on isn't just something you can jam with a frequency disrupter, of all things."

Charles Xavier nodded. "I was thinking the same thing, Hank, which leads me to believe that someone else is not only aware of the presence of Cerebro, but also how it operates."

"That someone else being Apocalypse," Logan commented.  

"Him or someone he's in contact with, I'm afraid," the Professor replied.  

"So this Apocalypse guy...?" Scott asked.  

"Well, Scott, to answer both of your questions, I believe it's time for me to introduce to you some new acquaintances I've made. Or rather old ones I've rekindled," the Professor replied.  

The small group of present-day X-Men watched with mild confusion as the space beside their mentor suddenly shifted with splashes of color. And their puzzlement quickly shifted to that of wide disbelief as three solid forms came to be.

There were two men and a woman. The young woman had long brown hair, half of it kept back in a large braid, tossed together with the remainder of her hair that settled over her shoulder. She wore dark-green cargo pants with high-lace boots, a loose fitting black t-shirt covering her upper body with an ash grey cargo vest over it. The boy beside her was a few inches taller than her, light blond hair buzzed cut along the side and the top combed and spiked forward. He wore a loose fitting red, v-neck shirt, hinting at nourished and well-maintained muscles, with a pair of goggles hanging loose around his neck. He wore beat up and ragged jeans, stuffed sloppily into white high top sneakers. Beside him was the second young man, rising significantly higher than the others. Though taller and lankier in build, he too was sporting regularly-used blue-furred muscles. His dark, raven hair was cut much like the blond beside him, though the sides weren’t so closely cut. On top, he wore a white shirt beneath a dark green cargo jacket, a red scarf hanging loosely around his neck. He wore khaki’s on the bottom that were rolled just inches above his bare, three-toed feet. All three had the red, faded markings of an upper-case P within a diamond shape, the logo on the woman’s vest, the blond man’s left pant pocket and the raven man’s jacket sleeve. 

All three of them were covered and caked in varying degrees of dirt and overall weariness. 

“I’d like you to meet Phaser, Blizzard and Phantom. Or as we know them today as Kitty Pryde, Bobby Drake and Kurt Wagner.”

 

* * *

 

 The large living room was alive with activity, all of the X-Men present for the annual Christmas party, a celebration of the holiday season, and a farewell to those who would be leaving for a short time to spend the remainder of December with their families.

Scott was heading out that very evening with Jean to her parents’ house for a few weeks. Kitty, Bobby, Forge and Tildie were all returning to their families for about week, about as long as Ororo was leaving for to visit her brother and his wife on the upper east side of Brooklyn.

For at least 9 days, it was just Logan, Hank, Kurt and Lorelei.

Dean Martin's Christmas soundtrack echoed across the room, mixing perfectly with the sweet smell of gingerbread and cinnamon wafting from the tables of food Ororo continued to fill to its capacity. Trays upon trays of cookies, pastries, cakes, finger sandwiches, chips and dips, soups and breads, candies and so much more, were continually pouring out from the kitchen. Tilde followed closely behind her as always, but couldn't help but steal curious glances at the party, while slipping another warm cookie inside of her pocket. 

Beside the towering, 12 foot brightly lit Christmas tree, were two sofa's, Bobby and Kitty sitting on one with Beast and Forge on the other, the two deep in conversation. Jean and Scott stood before the fireplace, nursing cups of sweet, warm coffee, letting the light from the flames dance along their rosy cheeks as they smiled fondly at each other. Logan watched the festivities from afar, snorting as Ororo passed by him with a glare on her way to the kitchen, quickly swiping the cold beer he had been nursing in his hand and replacing it with a hot cup of black coffee.

Presents between the departing and the remaining were to be later exchanged after the food, presents between the 4 remaining X-Men left beneath the tree for Christmas morning.  

Kurt watched Lorelei, as she continued to sit on the large window seat, staring absent-mindedly out the window to the typical grey, December sky.

 _"Allison, please fix your dress, sweetheart," her mother cooed, never looking up once from the trays of orderves that covered the kitchen counter, checking off each one in her head as the caterers slowly brought them out to the party, one by one._  

 _The young girl peered down at her dress, taking the loosened bow around her waist and redoing it, all the while eyeing the tray of peanut butter fudge balls that had not yet been taken out to the hundreds of hungry guests outside the storm doors of the enormous kitchen._  

 _She watched carefully as her mother turned her back briefly to inspect more food collections that were scattered about the side counters, and took the brief opportunity to snatch her hand up over the counter towards the fudge balls. Before her fingers had barely even brushed the chocolate desserts, her mother's stern voice rang in her ears._  

_"Allison! Put that down! You're putting on enough weight as it is," her mother scolded, patting the young girl's stomach as she passed by with a glass of champagne in her hand, stepping out of the kitchen to a chorus of greetings._

_The young girl stared down at her stomach where her mother had touched._  

 _Gaining weight?_  

 _Why did her mother keep saying that?_  

 _She had also started buying her dieting books, a new bag of them currently sitting atop her bed, complete with workout regiments, calorie counting charts and inspiration manuals._  

_But what had pushed the young, 11 year old over the edge, what caused her to glare defiantly as her poised mother sauntered over to her glamorous friends, was the other night at one of her father's work parties. Her mother had warned her to eat no dessert, but upon seeing all of the other kids making a grab for pieces of red velvet cake, she stormed over to the table, took the biggest slice she could and stuffed it in her mouth, making sure her mother was watching._

_Her stomach sank at the rage that flashed through her mother's eyes. Her limbs went rigid as her mother stormed ever so gracefully and silently over to her, grabbing her arm forcefully and dragging her to the little girl's bathroom. Her mother had pushed her into a stall and pointed with frustration at the toilet._  

 _At first, she didn't understand. She didn't need to go to the bathroom._  

 _"Spit it back up," her mother had ordered._  

 _Back up?_  

_But it was already in her stomach._

_Her mother made an obvious roll of her eyes and gave a sharp sigh._

_Suddenly, she had one hand wrapped around her daughter's hair to keep it in place, and the two fingers on her other hand were suddenly jabbed deep into the young girl's throat before she even knew what was happening._

_She gagged and cried, swiping uselessly at her mom's hand. And before long, she felt the familiar feeling of her food rising in her throat, and her mother swiped her fingers away just as the reddish contents of the cake came back up into the toilet._

_And she continued to cry, while her mother simply went to the nearby sink and washed her hands._  

 _"Why did you do that!?" she cried, her mother taking her in her arms and setting her gently on the sink as she dabbed a cool paper towel at the remnants lining her lips._  

_"Oh, sweetheart. It's for your own good. Now that you're getting older, there are just things you need to start doing. When you've eaten more than you should have, or something fattening, you need to throw it back up. Young ladies can't be eating large pieces of cake or a lot of cheese on their pasta. It's just something that has to be done," her mother had softly instructed._

_She peered longingly up at the counter of food before hearing her father's voice carry through from the parlor._

_"Darling, why don't you come out here and play a tune for us."_

_The young girl took one look back at the food before pushing through the storm doors out into the hallway._

_The sea of people, dressed in their finest dresses and suits, seemed to part ways for her, all smiles, to the parlor where her dad sat waiting on the bench beside the grand piano._  

 _He smiled at her and beckoned her with a wave of his hand._

_She giggled and made her way over to him, slipping beside him onto the bench, the ivory keys gleaming beneath the lights of the Christmas tree beside them, one of 8 scattered about the house._  

 _"What should I play, Daddy?" she asked, looking up into his big green eyes._  

 _He smiled down at her. "Anything you want, darling," he replied._  

_She looked out at the mass of people that had congregated in the parlor to listen, catching a glimpse of a group of girls giggling together, probably a year or two older than her._

_She studied their bodies, their tummies, and then looked skeptically down at hers._  

 _They were no different. Hers looked just like theirs._  

_Why would her mom want her to be skinnier than those girls? They were already very pretty._

_Maybe they threw up their food just like her._

_Maybe they had just come back from the bathroom._  

 _And as she slid her fingers into place along the keys, and began playing a memorized Christmas carol, she couldn't help but wonder about what the girls' mothers said to them about their weights and of the warm fudge balls she was never going to get to taste that night._  

"Anyzhing interesting out zhere?" Kurt asked, with a cheeky smile on his face. 

Lorelei startled from her thoughts, Kurt smiling wider at her stunned expression. 

"Sorry to startle to you," he replied, the young man dressed in a light blue dress shirt with tan dress pants and a bright, red Santa hat sitting crookedly on his head. 

Lorelei shook herself of her spooked features and smiled over at the young mutant. "Yeah, I see you're starting to make a habit of that," she replied, herself dressed in a two piece, dark red dress, the bottom coming just past her knees. 

"Yes, but you are easy to spook," he countered, handing her a warm cup of hot chocolate, similar to his own in the other hand, piled high with marshmallows. 

She gave him a small smile and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip and letting the warm liquid slide down her throat. 

"Vhat vere you zhinking about?" he asked. 

She gave a small shrug of her left shoulder. "Old memories," she replied with a small voice. 

Kurt's big, yellow eyes widened and softened with sympathy. "Of home?" 

There was a small upturn of the corner of her mouth as Lorelei snorted with amusement. "I'd hardly call that place home," she replied. 

"Ah," the young German began, pulling his legs up beside Lorelei's along the window seat, letting his tail dangle down to the ground, "I've seen zhe pictures of your old house. I would have no resentment towards a place like zhat." 

She hummed quietly in thought before turning to look with old sadness at her teammate. "Don't let the marble pillars fool you. They were no different than the rusty bars surrounding hell," she replied solemnly. 

Kurt's eyes widened slightly in alarm from above the rim of his cup. "Well, zhat took a dark turn," he commented lightly. 

Lorelei gave a sad laugh and wearily shook her head. "I'm sorry Kurt. It's Christmas, for crying out loud," she said, gesturing to the party around her, "I used to be in love with this time of year. I don't know why I'm so...moody," she replied. 

"Well," Kurt replied, taking both his and Lorelei's cups and gently setting them along the window, "I know vhat cheers everyone up." 

She watched him skeptically, a wide grin spreading across her face as she watched him bow comically before her, one hand outstretched. 

"Vould you do me zhe honor of a dance, Schatz?" he asked dramatically. 

The young healer had to keep a hard-pressed hand to her mouth to keep her laughter from uncontrollably spilling out. "I would be delighted," she replied, with some composure, placing her hand in his. 

Kurt lifted the young healer effortlessly from her seat, and gracefully twirled in her a circle, Lorelei leaning her head back with laughter, before letting his hand slip around the small of her back and his feet in tandem with the beat of the song. 

Logan couldn't help but chuckle deeply from afar, Ororo coming to stand beside him as they watched the two young X-Men twirl together.

"To be young again," the weather witch commented aloud, voice sweet with reminisce.

"Again? Ororo, you're only 29," Logan replied, turning to his old friend. 

"Wow, thanks for the reminder, Logan. You really know how to charm a woman," she replied sarcastically, giving the former Weapon-X a playful elbow in the stomach. 

"I mean, to be a young adult. I felt so alive, then. Like I could take on the world," she reiterated. 

"I'd be lying if I'd say I wasn't worried about these kids taking on the world," Logan jeered, nodding with his chin to Shadowcat and Iceman on the couch, the young Drake holding a piece of mistletoe between him and the young Pryde, Kitty slapping him on the cheek before pushing him and phasing half of his body through the couch. 

Orono laughed. "Oh, you know they're good kids, Logan. I'm proud of who they've become. All of them," the weather witch replied, the two watching as Bobby struggled uselessly within the confines of the couch's back, Kitty smirking proudly above him, as he continued to yell at her desperately to free him.

Both Storm and Wolverine now watched the younger X-Men with new eyes, they’re older counterparts from the Professor’s previous meeting still boring a hole in their minds. 

Their meeting had to be cut short, something once again from Charles’s world calling for their attention, but Hank, Ororo, Logan, Jean and Scott were now confident in their Professor’s decision in keeping Shadowcat, Iceman, Nightcrawler and the Shadow Healer’s involvement out of this missions. 

They could not meet their future selves. 

Kurt peered down at her and watched with concern as her detached stare fell upon his chest, her movements now simply out of habit as he slowly led her around and around to Bing Crosby and David Bowie's 'The Little Drummer Boy.' 

After weeks of watching the iconic vigilante in front of him, leaving at the break of dawn for school, looking absolutely worn-down and ragged, as if she hadn't slept a wink, returning in the late afternoon looking even more exhausted, and then stealing herself away to her room to do homework, only to come out for a Danger Room simulation (as of Monday), dinner, occasional snacks, and then movies later on in the night, he had begun to notice things about her that seemed so different than the persona she slipped on when the mask fell into place. 

Even he had gotten roped up in the great tales of New York's Shadow Healer. Much of her night activity was shrouded in, well, the night. She wasn't seen unless she wanted to be. Other than the millions of stories the people of New York regaled all over the internet, on talk shows, and even in front of the camera, when the news crew was asking for an opinion on a completely different matter, there was no solid footage or evidence of the mutant beside him at work, allowing imaginations to go into overdrive, actual events and over-exaggerated stories all mixing into a boiling pot that was the Shadow Healer. So to see her little quirks, the little things that excited her, or did just the opposite, was...he didn't even know how to explain it. It was like finding out Josh Groban was a rap fan, or the Hulk hated the color green, or Anakin Skywalker preferred red over the color blue, or Picasso was color blind, or that the ocean wasn't actually blue it was the sky's reflection on its surface (which is what actually happens). You build up the image of something for so long in your head, perfecting it, grooming it, feeding it, and then, it's not as you had imagined. It's not disappointing. It's not relieving. 

It's...nerving.

Maybe? 

No, even that word didn't feel like it fit. 

Like finding out about Lorelei's brooding sessions, which is what the young healer was doing right that second. Every one of the X-Men brooded. It came with the territory. As mutants all growing up in an anti-mutant society and stemming from some pretty messed up back story, ranging from no memory of it at all to family plane crash resulting in no parents and a mutant brother surf-boarding in Hawaii, X-Men liked to mope. Sometimes it was a brief, 5-second lamentation, a trigger word casually thrown into conversation rendering one of them speechless. Sometimes it wasn't that quick. Sometimes they'd just wake up in a bad mood, and would spend the whole day sulking in the confidence of the mansion's large shadows. If you wanted to be alone, it was pretty easy in the institute. Though there were many of them, the square footage of the property beat them 100 to 1.

So yeah, brooding wasn't new. They knew how to deal with it, whether it was their session or somebody else's. But Lorelei was just an entirely different case in it of itself.

Lorelei's brooding sessions were two things: quick and dark. If there was anything X-Men could do, it was milk a brooding session. It seemed that every time Lorelei got caught in the middle of one, or noticed she was drifting from reality, she snapped out of it so hard and so fast, it looked painful. Kurt would wince himself sometimes watching her pull her dead gaze from whatever fog it was settled behind and turn back to the conversation at hand. And that was the other thing: dark. The X-Men had all, in their own right, been through the ringer and back, hence the brooding. But Lorelei-the way her eyes went so deathly dark around the rim, the way her jaw set tightly together, teeth grinding mercilessly against each other, the way her face went stone cold, emotions hardened into pure agony and rage-it seemed had been through hell, and maybe wasn't entirely back. The places her mind traveled to were so dark, Kurt even pitied any telepath who got tangled up in that mess. She'd even change her posture the longer she dwelled on the demons in her mind. Her back, to the keenest of eyes, would stiffen and hunch, neck lowered ever so slightly between her shoulders, reminding Kurt of a wolf readying for the fatal blow. 

And then she would blink, and it was all over. 

In the quickest of seconds, the familiar light returned to her face, the twinkle in her eyes, the gleam in her perfect, wide smile, the grace in her form, and after a few minutes, he would question himself if what he had saw before actually happened, or if it was a just a trick of the light. And it would never happen again for quite some time, and he'd forget she'd ever possess the ability to look so...menacing. So deformed and rabid. And Lorelei would go about her day, her week, and then he'd think he was crazy for ever thinking Lorelei had ever fallen into that dark brood. 

That it was him that was imagining that whole experience. 

Because those two sides of her, those were two very different sides of a coin. 

A dark black and a bright light. 

A day and a night that couldn't possibly be connected by a dawn and a dusk. 

He reached out a hand to gently push at a stray hair along the side of her face, looping it delicately behind her ear. "Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich, meine Liebe." 

His words pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up at him with a puzzled face.

"Huh?" 

He smiled gently down at her. "I vas asking vhat jou vere zhinking about, Shactz," he lied. 

She smiled tiredly up at him. "Lost in my own little world, I guess," she commented lightly, slipping her gaze from his.

He smiled and dipped his head down to catch her eyes. 

"Do I get free admission?" he asked playfully. 

The young healer giggled and shook her head, widening the acrobat's smile. 

"I don't think you want a ticket into this horror show. There's no refunds," she replied grimly, the smile slowly slipping from her face. 

A saddened expression befell the teleporter's face. "Please, Fraulein. Jou are talkink to zhe ringmaster of horror shows. Forget zhe ringmaster. I vas zhe star," he replied, soberly.

The healer turned up to look at him quizzically. 

He gave a small chuckle. "I grew up in zhe circus. I alvays vanted to be in zhe acrobat show, vith all of zhe other performers. Zhey vhere very good.  Not to brag, but I vas pretty good, too. But zhe people only vanted to see zhe blue monster vith a tail. And so I got my own show. I vas zhe freak show for zhe circus. Zhat's vhat everyone came to see. Zhis...freak of nature I believe zhe saying is. Zhey veren’t zhere to see my acrobat skills. Zhey just wanted to watch a beast up close and personal. Zhen someone who I zhought vas my friend exposed me as a real freak, and zhe public panicked," he explained. 

Lorelei kept her eyes down at her feet as Kurt spoke, but he knew she was listening, turning up to give him a pitiful look. "Oh, Kurt," she started. 

He put a hand up to stop her, shaking his head. "Nein, fraulein. Lassen Sie seine get wird. I am all zhe more stronger for eet. And had I not abandoned zhe circus, I vould not have met zhe professor," he reassured her. 

She simply nodded her head. 

"Alright," the teleporter prompted, "you got a ride on my roller coaster. I vant a ticket for one of yours. Vhat has you so distant?" he asked gently, the young healer feeling his hands around her subconsciously tighten. But it wasn't malicious. He strengthened his hold her, as if knowing talking about it took strength she didn't think she had. It made her stomach feel squishy and her heart quicken with anxiousness. He was holding her up and holding her close. 

Like a castle wall. 

She sighed. "The party just...it just reminds me of the parties my parents used to throw,” she began, her voice impossibly small and fragile. “Those parties were huge. We would have hundreds of guests at a time. Ambassadors, lawyers, doctors, dignitaries, politicians, judges. People who, in my parents’ eyes, mattered. And um...my mother...she uh..." 

A deeply concerned look befell Kurt's face, eyebrows knotted as Lorelei's voice noticeably began to shake, her hands around his waist shaking minutely. 

"Shhh, Shactz, please. Eet eez alright," Kurt gently comforted. 

He waited patiently for her to take a small shaky breath that only he could hear. 

"...my mom wanted...a uh...a little lady, she used to say. Someone who...who...looked the part, at least. And I...I never fit that bill," she began. Her voice continued to heavily tremble, as she placed a small hand to her mouth and violently shook her head, watching her teammates around her. 

"I'm...I'm sorry...I can't..." she mumbled beneath her breath, eyes wide with fear and embarrassment, she tried to pull away from Nightcrawler’s embrace. "I...I need to get out of here...I can't...I can't breathe..."

Kurt straightened up and quickly looked about him, the Scout's trained eyes watching the party around grow foggy and heavy with egg nog. In a puff of smoke, he was gone, leaving the young healer for a second, perplexed and confused, only to return a second later, the dark blue smog from his previous teleport not even fully dissipated, coats and scarves bundled in his arm before wrapping a strong arm around Lorelei's shoulders, and the two disappeared in the blink of an eye.

 

* * *

 

 

Lorelei suddenly gasped, a piercing chill breaking through the sulfuric smog that clouded her senses everyone time she teleported with Kurt. 

She instinctively went to rub her arms for warmth, glancing down with confusion to find her gloved hands rubbing at her black pea coat, her favorite cashmere scarf wrapped perfectly around her. She peered up to find the world around her coming into clarity, Nightcrawler's sheepish smile comforting her some, spotting him sporting his infamous long coat, collar up to cover his neck, a flat cap with sides long enough to cover most of his ears, long pants that dragged across the ground to hide his feet, and a scarf high enough to cover his chin and mouth for people who were glancing too closely. 

She peered hesitantly around her, startling to find the two standing on the wooden planks of the boardwalk on Coney Island. The place was rightly deserted, the hefty few inches of early New England snow from the grey overcast above weighing down umbrella canopies and blanketing the boardwalk and abandoned machinery, the water surrounding them grey and still much like the looming sky.

The bustling summer attraction was daunting to see in its naked, unpopulated form, but yet strangely settling for the still frazzled and trembling healer, who continued listening to her hyperactive breathing as it wheezed apprehensively in and out of her lungs.

Kurt turned to his teammate, still shaking from the few demons she had let slip back at the mansion, and for the rest that were demanding to be released and responded with the most calming of voices, “I come here, sometimes, in zhe winter. It’s peaceful. Helps me zhink.” 

She turned wildly to him, eyes large and frightened, as if she had completely forgotten already that he was there, her ragged breaths coming out in sharp bursts of cloudy air. 

She seemed so raw before him, as if despite the multitude of fabric layers keeping her warm, she had been stripped down to her very center. 

Even though she hadn’t spilled all that was weighing on her heart before, and she may never relay to him the extent of the chains of her past she continued to carry alongside her, he had caught a glimpse just then.

The pain, the hurt, the betrayal, the self-loathing that she had let slip across her eyes was enough to warn Kurt that the relationship the young lady before him had shared with her mother was much too dark for light conversation.

He gave a small sigh and a weathered smile, before walking slowly up to her, the young healer leaning back and watching him approach warily like cornered prey, arms opening at just the last moment to envelop her in a large hug.

He felt her immediately tense beneath his arms, her rigid body almost trying to pull away from him.

But something inside her finally broke, and she immediately melted in his embrace, falling against his chest and wrapping her arms around his chest in return, her face nestled against him.

He gently rubbed his hands against her arms reassuringly, lightly kissing the top of her head, before letting it rest atop hers. 

“Schatz, please know zhat you may talk to me about anyzhing. Anyzhing at all. Zhese ears are all yours. You must learn to let ozzers carry zhe weight of zhe vorld for you a little,” he comforted.  

A sharp sniffle echoed below him. 

Her voice came out low and moist, muffled by his chest and wet with unshed tears. “Why?” 

“Vhy vhat, Schatz?” he asked gently. 

“Why would you want to do that? Why would you do that for me? Nobody…” 

She let her sentence fall and her voice drop away, but he knew what she had wanted to say. 

 _Nobody has ever done that for me_. 

And that alone made the young German want to cry along with his new teammate. 

To think he had known her for about 2 months now and he already felt his heart breaking in tandem with hers. 

“Eet’s vhat family does for each ozzer,” he simply replied, basking in the intense warmth that radiated out from her chest to his, very different from the bitter cold breeze that nicked at the gaps in his clothing. 

Her voice came out even softer. “Family…” she whispered, as if testing the sound of the word in her mouth, rolling it along her tongue like a gumball. 

“Ja, Fraulein. Family. You’re stuck vith me,” he responded, hugging her tighter for emphasis, surprised when he felt the force of her strength grapple him tighter into their hug. 

Suddenly, a sharp sound pierced the X-Men ears, startling them out of their moment and into another one.   

“Bravo. I couldn’t have written a better Hallmark card myself hopped up on Chai tea and Nicholas Sparks novels.” 

They peered up, completely startled, to see a figure standing before them, obnoxiously clapping his hands. 

“You know, I would say this was picturesque. But I prefer theme parks when its humanly tolerable outside,” he continued, splaying out a hand to catch a few falling snowflakes. 

Both X-Men strained their eyes for a closer look at the blond man standing defiantly before them. He was clothed all in black, a torn and tattered black cape hanging from his left shoulder and covering most of the right side of his body. 

“Alex?” the healer gasped quietly to herself, only the trained X-Man beside her able to hear it.

“Came here for a little pre-game fuel up, and I catch this little Disney movie ending,” he jeered, gesturing between the two young X-Men, haven not yet recognized Bayville’s newest student and the infamous Nightcrawler huddling further beneath his hat, scarf and jacket for cover. “The princess who doesn’t believe she deserves happiness and the CGI-perfect prince who’s going to convince her otherwise. Classic.”

Kurt peered hesitantly to his left, watching as Lorelei’s right hand slowly came out from her side, her fingers slowly brushing and dancing around in the air, as if seeing something he couldn’t. 

“His powers have manifested. I can feel his energy in the airwaves,” she whispered again discreetly to her teammate. 

Alex Knight called out to them again, oblivious to their side conversation. “You see, I am royalty myself. Not your fairytale knight in shining armor. No. I’m a little darker than that. Maybe PG-13. Then again, after I’m through with the Senator tonight, I think I’ll have to be branded Rated-R. Little too gruesome for Frozen fans.” 

His eyes grew playfully wide as he put a mocking hand to his mouth. “Whoops. Wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Oh well. Just have to kill you than. But that’s ok. Take this bad boy for a test drive.” 

And the two X-Men watched numb with disorientation as a gleaming red saber, crackling like lightening with energy, slowly materialized out from his right hand, casting a menacing scarlet glare on the dark clad mutant. 

And with a wrist flick so quick not even the trained X-Men were prepared, Alex Knight swiped the energy saber in front of him and sent an arc of energy out careening towards the X-Men, watching like deer caught in headlights, unable to flee in time and to exposed to use their powers. 

They could only watch with horror as the energy blast struck the boardwalk feet before them with the strength of an 18-wheeler. Wood exploded and splintered in the collision’s fury, the blast taking with it a large junk of the boardwalk, and the X-Men’s ground beneath their feet, down toward the icy waters below, the dark clad blond smiling viciously at the sound of Kurt and Lorelei’s panicked screams along the glow of his red weapon. He listened with satisfaction at the sound of disturbed water reached his ears, large splashes rising up briefly out of the boardwalk’s new hole before disappearing back down. 

“I’d stick and chat, but something tells me you’re not in a talking mood. No matter. I have more pressing matters to attend to tonight. Have a nice swim,” he replied to the now stilled air, turning sharply around, his dark billowing and slapping against the breeze in protest, and made his way back down the boardwalk and away from Coney Island. 

Minutes passed, the water falling eventually back into a weathered pattern, as if nothing had disturbed it minutes before, the remaining pieces of splintered driftwood now floating peacefully along the surface.

Suddenly, inches from the walk’s gaping hole, the air exploded in a gasp of thick, pungent smoke, giving way to two kneeling figures, hands clutching the other’s elbows and arms, panting heavily against each other, completely dry.

Nightcrawler raised a trembling hand to his ear piece, stilling shaking voice and desperate breath long enough to relay a coherent plea to his team.

“Kurt to base. Lorelei and I just encountered a deranged and volatile mutant. He’s heading for Senator Kelly’s house. You have to hurry. I repeat, you have to hurry. He’s looking to murder the Senator.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's German to English translation:
> 
> Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich, meine Liebe: I'm worried about you, my love. 
> 
> Lassen Sie seine get wird: Let His will be done. 
> 
> I'm not going to translate Schatz. You can ook up the meaning behind Kurt's pet name for Lorelei but there's a cute little story behind it in a near chapter. So yeah, spoil it at your own risk ;)


	11. Power Grab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I own only my creations. Thank you and enjoy!

Kurt peered leeringly over the edge of Lorelei’s golden, glimmering construct as the two soared through the slowly darkening sky.

“Crap,” Lorelei whispered, at least 5 times in the last 10 minutes since the X-Men pair had collected themselves from the incident at Coney Island and had raced off to meet their team.

3 times since they had created a secure phone chat with Bobby and Kitty, who were both already on their respective planes to their families, letting them know about their wayward mutant high schooler.

“Das ist eine Untertreibung. Ja, Schatz,” Nightcrawler replied, keeping his voice mellow while his stomach completed flying loops as their ‘ride’ tilted ever so slightly.

“How is it possible!?” she exclaimed with frustration, turning around to face the young German, sliding down the slightly curved edge of her flying oval construct, head lolling back to rest on its wall.

She blew a sharp breath at a few stray bangs, and closed her eyes in concentration.

“I saw him on Tuesday. His X-Gene was still dormant,” she commented, voice strained as she mentally tried to come to terms with the last half an hour.

She opened her eyes at the sound of Nightcrawler’s voice, sporting his classic red and blue X-Men suit thanks to Lorelei’s light manipulating abilities. “Eet could have easily manifested in zhe past day or so,” Kurt replied, letting his arms rest on his bent knees, pondering just how the Shadow Healer in front of him was steering their flying vessel with no eyes on what was coming at them.

They were hundreds of feet above any nearby buildings or any other obstacles, but that gave him no comfort.

She sighed irritably. “And he just suddenly decided to whip together that Kylo Ren get-up? Something must’ve really sent him over the edge.”

“Eef he’s goink after zhe Senator, I zhink eet’s safe to assume zhat Kelly ticked him off,” Kurt supplied, cringing as the edge of Lorelei’s telekinetic construct came merely inches from an unsuspecting seagull, fingers grasping at air and teeth screeching together.

“And anything that came out of _that_ idiot’s mouth could offend a _normo_ , let alone a newly indoctrinated mutant,” she spat out, voice laced with sharp distaste. 

Despite the dire situation, Kurt couldn’t help a small smile, Lorelei already taking on Iceman’s lingo for a non-mutant. 

And that wasn’t the only thing. As each day passed, the invisible rift that had come, pre-assembled, when Lorelei had first joined the team was slowly getting smaller.

Kurt had had his suspicions about creating the Protectors. If there was tension and secrecy amongst the team, the solution to that issue would be to address it, not create more secrets. So establishing a covert group under watchful eyes seemed like a pretty bad idea. 

But now, Kurt couldn’t help but thank God that it had all worked out. 

Much to his relief, Lorelei was properly integrating into the X-Men, at least between Kitty and Bobby. The scars of betrayal from Emma Frost were no longer fresh and glistening. Now, they were treating Lorelei like she had been with the team since the beginning. 

At first, it was the four of them hanging out. Beginning at first as simple meetings in their ‘X-Cave’ as Bobby had dubbed it, pouring over intel on the mutant students at Bayville or their continued search for Warren, the Protectors started bonding more often. Traveling for take-out in the early hours of the morning, sitting down with Lorelei when the modern day academia was becoming a little too much to handle, immediately buddying up for Danger Room simulations; the four of them were making the mansion feel more like a home for a team, rather than simply a half-way house for mutants.

The Protectors’ secret, as distancing as it was between them and the older members of the team, was filling a hole Kurt had forgotten was empty. 

The Professor. 

He had seemed to be the glue for all them, back when the Institute was just barely operational. Filled to the brim with kids with big opinions and even bigger powers, Charles Xavier kept them all sane and in check. 

It was difficult for many of the kids at the institute. For most, it meant leaving their families, wherever they were in the world, for a solid portion of the year. Attending a new school, with new people, with kids of all background coexisting in this giant mansion, while the world stamped the big ‘freak’ label on them; it was a ticking time bomb.  

But the Professor made it work. He made them all feel welcome, at peace with themselves and with their powers. And for some, like Kurt, who hadn’t grown up with any sense of a normal life, Charles Xavier was the closest to a father figure he had ever had.

And Lorelei…she was there new, temporary Charles.

People just seemed to…relax around her.

They felt at ease and visibly melted in her presence.  

Bobby had immediately taken to her, Kitty had relied to Kurt later on. While Shadowcat had repeatedly tried to steer Iceman away from the Shadow Healer, the young Drake had fallen hook, line and sinker for that light that seemed to perpetually shine from her heart, regardless of her abilities. And Bobby was like that. A jokester at heart that only saw the best in people. And with Lorelei, it was too easy. 

Bobby had taken her under his wing in the department of video games, introducing her first to the mansions unending supply, before scheduling one-on-one competitions around her school work and missions.

And soon, Kitty was inching her way closer to the healer.

The two girls easily bonded together, almost falling completely in sync when it came to magazines, fashion, actors and boys, much to Bobby and Kurt's dismay. A lot of the times, all they got was a simple 'girl stuff' response when Kitty and Lorelei left for hours at a time.  

Kurt suddenly looked up from his muse at Lorelei’s loud gasp, watching as her eyes grey soccer ball wide. 

“No,” she gasped.

“Vhat’s wrong?”

She turned to him, wide eyed and frightened. “Mikey. Kelly’s son. Alex is going to get there and see him,” she said.

Kurt deflated. “And zhen Mikey’s cover’ll be blown. Who knows vhat zhey’ll do to him when zhey find out he’s Kelly’s blood.”

Lorelei turned back to him. “They’ll crucify him.”

 

* * *

 

 

Placing a steady hand out beside her, Lorelei slowly dissipated her flying construct and slowly lowered Kurt and herself to the ground, the two feeling the gusts of wind unique only to the Blackbird, the X-Men plane landing in camouflage mode a top the Kelly’s New York estate.

They waited patiently as the lower hangar door opened with a loud hiss, Wolverine already making his way down the ramp. 

“Forge rewired and tapped into the security detail’s line and got them on a scavenger hunt down by the lake, so we got a small window of opportunity to get in, take care of this and get out,” Wolverine explained, Logan already slipping into the leader position. 

“Anything we should know about him?” Beast asked, looking to the only two other X-Men for answers, Kurt and Lorelei both coming to the same, slow and horrid conclusion that the rest of the X-Men had left already for their respective homes for Christmas.

It was just Wolverine, Beast, Nightcrawler and the Shadow Healer for tonight. 

Trying to protect their anti-mutant Senator.

From a hell-bent mutant teenager.

“Nicht mehr alle Tassen im Schrank haben. Ah…not all zhere,” Kurt clarified.

Nightcrawler and the Shadow Healer just barely turned their heads to share a look.

_Do we tell them who it is?_

Lorelei nodded in agreement to Kurt’s statement. “Almost sadistic. He had no problem wiping Kurt and I out, and seemed to enjoy it.”

Wolverine let out a sharp snort. “Sounds like a swell guy,” he quipped.

Kurt could picture Bobby now, standing with his arms crossed beside Kitty, giving her a humorful look, genuinely smiling when she smiled back, and asking why don’t we just _let the kid at ‘em._

He mentally chastised himself for entertaining the thought.

He had no right to wish ill on someone else or judge who was deserving of pain.

God forgive him.

But the justice that the people he so wrongly persecuted needed…Kurt couldn’t help but feel that what the X-Men were doing was simply being counterproductive to that justice.

They kept surveillance on all of Kelly’s rallies and press conferences, ready for a disgruntled mutant who was feeling a little less vocal and a little more physical, and stepping in to keep the peace.

Sure, they were defending innocent bystanders, keeping a usually benign mutant from prosecution over fairly justifiable emotions, and yes, making sure Kelly’s skin was perfectly white and unblemished.

But there had to be a point when the Senator needed a front row seat to the havoc he was wreaking.

Along with the X-Men, a few operational prowlers and his continuous supply of MRD officers, the Senator and his family were sitting in their comfortable mansion in New York, seeing nothing of what they did to their taxpayers.

Kurt believed in what the X-Men were doing, believed in Logan’s plans and judgements as a leader. That like SHIELD, the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, the Defenders, the Guardians and every other motley crew out there, they were defending the weak and powerless who could not defend themselves.

But at what point did protecting become enabling? When did defending the Senator from opposition cross over into fueling his sense of invulnerability, and that no matter what he said about mutants, nothing could touch him?

He was brutally roused from his thoughts at the touch of a familiar, fairly hot hand on his shoulder.

He peered down into a pair of patient grey eyes.

“Ya with us, Elf?”

He turned his head at the gruff voice and looked into the white eye slits of a blue and yellow cowl.

“Ja,” he replied, wincing at the unconvincing sound of his voice and Logan sighed.

“Munchkin, fill him in, would ya? Hank and I’ll get into position.”

And with that, Wolverine and Beast were off in the other direction across the roof.

“Did I miss somezhing?”

Lorelei chuckled, taking off towards the north side of the roof, nodding her head for the young German mutant to follow.

“Hank and Logan are checking the ground level, first and the second floor, we’ve got the third and fourth. No alarms have been triggered and there’s no mad panic on the grounds, so we’re assuming we’ve either beat Alex here, or we’re too late and he’s got the family cornered off and ready to strike somewhere in the house,” she explained, lifting the hood of her cape and covering her head, and the result was astounding. 

The simple hood cast an extremely dark shadow over the young healer’s face, her dark mask adding to the affect. It seemed that the only truly visible part was the whites of her eyes. It gave her a look of complete eeriness, like some specter from a Halloween show melting with the shadows. 

_Makes sense,_ he thought to himself. Shadow  _Healer._

She looked up to find him watching her. “I know Clark Kent could pull it off with just glasses, but here in the real world, I’m not sure the mask’ll be enough. I don’t want him recognizing me,” she replied.

The Shadow Healer cascaded a shower of gold over her teammate, and Kurt couldn’t help but smile and remember the Peter Pan movie he had watched before, feeling much like the lost boy himself with Tinkerbell sprinkling pixie dust all over him, helping him fly.

Lorelei held out her hand to steady Kurt, as the two X-Men descended down to the third floor, coming to stop right before the balcony to a set of storm doors. Lorelei waited patiently for Kurt to get a look at the inside, before he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, the two quickly disappearing with a puff of sulfuric smoke, reappearing in the inside of the house.

The room they had teleported into was fairly dark, the dim lighting creating enough shadows for Lorelei to place an arm chair and a lamp to her left, a stair case ahead of her and another room to her right.

Kurt peered over at the sudden burst of golden light, watching as Lorelei’s eyes became a rich gold, her fingers reaching out to dance and twirl in the air, each finger leaving trails of golden dust in their movements.

She was doing the same thing she had done on Coney.

“He’s here, isn’t he,” Kurt replied.

Lorelei nodded her head. “I don’t know why but his energy is stronger than before. Like he...refueled or something,” she whispered back to him.

Just as Kurt was letting Lorelei’s comment sit comfortably in his mind, the entire world erupted around them in a rush of blinding light and noise.

Kurt first saw the intense red light, reflecting off of the window off to their right. Suddenly, the entire storm door exploded in a rage of showering glass shards, the two X-Men pummeled to the ground by the sheer force of strength of whatever had broken through.

The young German cringed at the sound of the piles of broken glass he had landed on, his attention caught by strangled cries and a familiar growl.

He gingerly lifted his sore head just above his chest, movements slow and rattled, ears ringing mercilessly and head pounding viciously, to find his two teammates held against the adjacent wall by the force of an incredible, bright red energy blast, Wolverine and Beast struggling futilely to escape from under it, while the thick wall behind them began to splinter and crack under the pressure, a black caped figure at the energy’s center.

Alex Knight.

He slowly turned his head to follow the young Knight’s other hand, to find straining fingers glowing red with energy trained on the Senator and his wife, both in respectable attire, crouched and cowering against the corner, eyes wide as they watch his hand.

“Stop.”

Kurt stretched his head around to find the Shadow Healer slowly peeling herself from the piles of broken glass, as she slowly gathered herself up to her feet, a placating hand raised out to calm the novice mutant.

Kurt slowly got to his knees to stand by her side, watching as Alex Knight turned to the sound of her voice, his diverted attention disconnecting his hold on his energy beam, Logan and Hank dropping hard against the floor.

Kurt quickly became concerned when two of the strongest X-Men made no move to get up, fearing the power behind Alex’s new abilities.

Nightcrawler got unsteadily to his feet and called out to him. “You don’t have to do this, Al—“

There was a slight nervous edge to his voice, rising unsteadily. As if the adrenaline of the situation was already waning. “You can call me the Red Knight,” Alex corrected.  

Lorelei’s heart suddenly stopped, her roaming energy suddenly picking up another heartbeat. Or at least she thought so. It fluttered past her mind so fast, she couldn’t tell if it was a heartbeat or another heart entirely. Her mind was reeling at the moment from all the sensory input she was experiencing. So she counted.

Logan’s; loud, powerful.

Hank’s; steadfast, calm, calculated.

Kurt’s; light, quick, nimble.

Alex’s; erratic, jumpy.

Two; fast and irregular, reeking desperately of fear. Those had to be Mr. and Mrs. Kelly.

But then there was a seventh.

Somewhere to her left. It was calmer than the Kelly’s but still bouncing with uncertainty.

Keeping her head still facing the dangerously anxious young mutant before her, she let her eyes travel slowly to her left, where the Kelly’s grand stair case rose to meet the top floor.

There, hidden in the shadows of the wall, body pressed cautiously to against it, was Mikey, clothed in a crinkled Bayville shirt and boxers, hair askew and glasses thrown clumsily on his nose, and judging by the waning sluggishness of his heart and his still dilating pupils, he had just been pulled from bed.

No doubt by the noise above him.

And suddenly, her heart stopped again.

He couldn’t come up.

Not because it wasn’t safe. Which it wasn’t.

But the last thing Mikey needed was for Alex to recognize him, put two and two together, and throw the poor young Kelly into a living hell. If the X-Men were successful tonight, and the Kelly’s lives were saved, Alex’s erotic behavior craved still for vengeance, and what better pawn to move to take down the king than to use his own son against him. If Alex would be that clear-minded to do so. But like before, his behavior at best, was erotic. Something told the young healer that the possibility of simply killing Mikey was far too likely.

Mikey suddenly looked up to lock eyes with the healer, the healer herself stunned to find his rich greens becoming lighter yellows, slowly trailing out to fall lightly down the stairs.

She calmed him.

If the situation at hand wasn’t as desperate, she would’ve laughed.

Imagine; the son of the most prominent member of the anti-mutant group was calmed by the sight of one standing in their living room.

Keeping her arm at her side, she barely raised her hand in a gesture to stay put. Bruce distinctly nodded in response, sliding his body deeper into the shadows of the staircase, but still remaining close by.

“The Shadow Healer, in the flesh.”

Lorelei spun her eyes back, eyes now locking with the bright whites of Alex’s.

Not many knew her; knew what the Shadow Healer looked like. Her habits were quite nocturnal, traveling and blending in with the dark night shadows concealed with an equally dark suit. The only people who knew what she looked like were those she had healed, and even for some it had simply been a glance at her well masked face or a peak at the strawberry blonde hair she had kept frequently beneath the hood of her cape.

But she had never healed Alex, nor anyone related to him.

She replied calmly, “Leave them alone. It’s not worth it.”

He gave a sharp laugh in return, showing the true maniacal war ensuing in his mind. “Worth it? It’ll be completely worth it, Shadow Healer. She’s dead because of Senator Kelly. But then again, you’re the reason she’s dead too.”

Lorelei’s heart stopped cold. “What?”

“You didn’t heal her. She was sick and dying and you didn’t heal her,” he clarified, Lorelei flinching at the sharp eruptions of pure scarlet smoke that screamed around him like flaring lights, matching the still glowing saber in his hand.

And right then, Nightcrawler knew from the painfully raw expression on his teammates face, that he had just discovered her greatest secret.

Her greatest weakness.

Her greatest Kryptonite.

Her inability to heal everyone who needed it. 

Her wide eyes and open mouth were still reeling to catch up when she tried futilely to respond. “I can’t—“

The Red Knight cut her off. “You can’t what? Save everyone? Well then, let’s see if you can at least save yourself.”

Even with Nightcrawler’s agility, no matter how prepared he was, he still wouldn’t have been fast enough to prevent any of the next few seconds from occurring.

Alex’s saber suddenly was gone, both hands flick out towards the healer, dark energy traveling out form his fingertips and twisting at incredible speeds toward Lorelei, enveloping the healer within seconds in a thick fog of bright red energy.

The healer soon began yelling out in distress, Nightcrawler stunned to watch helplessly as her familiar golden light was being pulled out from her body, her back arching and head whipping back.

“Agh! He’s…he’s absorbing my…energy!”

Kurt was gone.

In seconds, he was reappearing right beside the young Knight, hands reaching out to teleport the little punk and drop him from the roof.

But he never made it, the Red Knight’s energy utilizing the strength behind Lorelei’s, an unseen field of crackling voltage formed around him, viciously electrocuting the unsuspecting Nightcrawler upon his landing and sending his limp body reeling toward the opposite wall. Wolverine, haven finally shaken off the last remaining physical effects of Alex’s blast, roughly caught the unconscious teleporter as he skidded to halt before his leader.

A wicked grin spread across the Red Knight’s face, almost jumping with excitement at the endless supply of energy that seemed to be simply pouring from the X-Men in front of him, who continued to call out in distress.

“My, my, aren’t we just full of surprises today, Shadow Healer. You’ve been holding back. Who knew you were packing this kind of power,” he called out tauntingly.

The healer’s body reeled at her golden energy being pulled straight out from her chest, feeling her heart twist and writher away from the infiltration. Her ribs and lungs seemed to squeeze further in, and her heart felt like it was getting larger, all causing her chest to ache.

But suddenly, the golden energy that had been simply seeping into the Red Knight’s pores with ease, sent white hot explosions all along the inside of his skin, like the blinding heat from a fresh burn. He screamed in agony, reeling back from the energy that was now rebelling against him. His steady red energy, encircling the young healer, immediately flickered and dimmed to nothing. Forced down weakly on one knee, the Red Knight howled in pain as the healer’s energy rebelled against him, burning his body from the inside out.

The Shadow Healer heaved an exhausted breath, inhaling calmly as her energy slowly returned to her, pockets of her heated, sparkling energy falling back into place like pieces in a puzzle, heart returning to normalcy, no longer stressed out over the breach.

With a quick flick of her shoulders, the glimmering outline to her body returned, her posture straightening comfortably back into place, her eyes falling upon the still struggling Alex, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

She casually walked up to him, no he was no longer a threat tonight. “Yeah, I wouldn’t suggest trying to do that again, Alex,” she replied tightly, her mind still stuttering as the young mutant’s accusation played on a continual loop in her mind, present mixing with the past, Alex’s voice melding into another young boy she let down.

  _You didn’t heal her._

_She was sick and dying and you didn’t heal her._

_You’re the reason she’s dead, too._

_You’re the reason she’s dead._

_You’re the reason._

_You didn’t save her._

_You didn’t save me, Pige._

_Why didn’t you save me?_

_I’m dead._

_You promised._

_It should’ve been you._

_I mattered more._

“—out!”

Lorelei was barely out of her trance when she felt a heavy force slam into her side, sending her shoulder searing into the wood floor, her body following suit. She looked over to find Logan slowly getting up from the ground beside her, his suit fresh with black and still burning scorch marks, another look around the room showing no sign of the Red Knight, and a second burning hole in the wall. Beside it, Beast was looping Nightcrawler’s arm around his shoulder and helping the still disoriented teleporter to his feet.

She peered over to find Wolverine’s had in her face. She grabbed his hand and felt her brain jiggle like the blobs in a lava lamp as he pulled her effortlessly to her feet.

Wolverine and the Shadow Healer whipped around at the sound of the Senator’s exclamations into a cell phone, searching desperately out his window for his security team. “Guards! There has been an intrusion! All squadrons report back to the house!”

Her leader simply grunted. “Guess that’s our que.”

And when the Senator turned away from the window and his wife back to the room, he nearly screamed in frustration at his empty living room, two holes still freshly burning in his wall, while his son remained crouched on the northern staircase, thinking hard to himself where he had seen the Claddagh ring on the Shadow Healer’s finger before.

 

* * *

 

  

The two collapsed wearily onto Lorelei’s telekinetic construct, the Blackbird taking off towards the mansion with the Shadow Healer and Nightcrawler keeping close behind. Logan had persisted the two take the Blackbird, being that both had taken the brunt of the attack and could barely stay upright, but they tiredly refused.

They needed to have a Protector’s meeting.

Kitty and Bobby would need to be read in on what was going down, and fast.

Kurt peered over at his teammate, tired eyes catching the scratch running along the healer’s hair line, the sluggish blood slowing to a halt.

He gently cupped her chin in his hand and titled the scratch towards him for a better look, feeling the healer’s neck lock up and her face instinctively tense.

He pulled the sleeve of his suit up over his hand and, cupping the healer’s cheek the keep her head in place, lightly dabbed at the cut, Lorelei hissing sharply.

“It’s fine, Kurt. It’s just a scratch. Head wounds tend to bleed a lot,” the healer reassured, though the teleporter continued to gently clean the injury with his sleeve, tiredly trying to remember how he had not caught this before while in the Kelly’s mansion, his thoughts sluggish and his brain working on exhaust fumes.

The two X-Men jumped at a shrill ringing, Kurt peering hesitantly about him, remembering the phone tucked away in his pocket.

He pulled it out, tilting the screen toward Lorelei to show Kitty inviting them to a group video chat with Bobby.

He let his eyes lock with hers, giving her a questioning look.

_Do we want to do this now?_

The healer gave a small shrug of her shoulder and nodded her head. Kurt clicked the accept button, and watched as his screen split in two, the right side coloring over with a slightly tired Kitty, hair pulled into a high ponytail, strands hanging down, the screen barely taking in her chair and the back wall of the airplane behind her. She was snuggled tightly in an oversized grey sweatshirt, a thermos of something hot sitting between her crossed legs.

**“Is this thing even working?”**

Kitty let out an irritated sigh, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

**“Green button, Bobby.”**

Then the left screen was filled with a blur of blond before focusing out to find the young Drake nestled into the corner of a car, wrapped in earmuffs, a scarf and a heavy coat, snow falling heavily out the car window beside him.

His face grew wide with excitement. **“Oh, there we go! Well hey there guys! How did saving Kelly’s ass go? Is he grateful? Maybe he’ll drop the MRA’s in honor of your heroic deeds?”** slowly taking in his teammate’s battered forms, the bruise blossoming beneath the blue fur along the side of Kurt’s face and the bright red scratch along Lorelei’s forehead.

Nightcrawler and the Shadow Healer let out a tired sigh.

“If anyzhing, tonight vill push him to approve more,” Kurt replied, running a hand through his haggard mess of hair.

Bobby’s face dropped. **“Oh.”**

Kitty’s faced filled with sympathy. **“That bad?”**

Bobby’s eyes grew wide. **“Wait, did anyone die!?”** he exclaimed, eyes suddenly turning to something above his screen, followed by a muffled voice and then Bobby’s response of **“It’s X-Men business”** followed by another muffled reply, then Bobby’s response of **“Mom, I’m 20! Just drop it!”**

Despite the aching fatigued that had settled heavily in their bones, Lorelei and Kurt couldn’t help but snort, before sobering up. “No, but it was close,” Lorelei replied. “I’ve never seen that side of Alex before. It’s like he didn’t care what was going to happen to him. As long as he went down swinging.”

Kitty let her hot breath collect in her cheeks before blowing it out, eyes wide and contemplating. **“He must really have it out for Kelly.”**

Lorelei tiredly nodded, then dipped her chin back at Shadowcat. “Did you dig anything up?” she asked.

Kitty nodded, reaching out of her screen’s range and pulling a few different colored folders into view. **“Got a little from his school records and his family’s medical records, but it’s enough to probably explain why he’s looking for Kelly’s head on a platter,”** Kitty replied, giving the folders a small shake.

She slipped a packet out of a red folder and let her eyes drift over the page. **“Alex Knight. Age 16. Height 5’ 11”. No allergies. Was treated beginning at the age of 7 for asthma, but supposedly outgrew it by 12. No other medical concerns. No criminal records for him or any of his family members. Son of Paul and Margaret Knight. Paul Knight; construction worker. Margaret Knight; occupational therapist. He has two older brothers, Jeremy, 23, and Hunter, 27, both enlisted in the United States Army.”**

Bobby made a funny face. **“Doesn’t sound too out of the ordinary.”**

**“Margaret Knight was admitted to the Metro General in 2014, complaining of intense headaches. An MRI scan located a malignant tumor growing beside her brain. She was scheduled for surgery and chemo but on her medical records, it just says that she was suddenly denied treatment. Then she passed away a month later,”** Kitty continued, flipping forward and backward through her piles of papers.

Lorelei’s face scrunched with confusion. “Denied treatment? That doesn’t make sense,” she replied, everyone turning to Bobby’s screen at the sound of sharp crackling, the ice bender looking up with innocent eyes, half of a pop tart sticking out of his mouth and his fist balling up the wrapper.

**“Didn’t to me either. So I looked into it a little more. Margaret’s surgery was scheduled for January 23 rd, 2015. Kelly’s 5th MRA was passed on the 19th,”** Kitty replied, looking back up to face the screen.

It was Bobby’s turn to look confused. **“Wait, so we’re thinking she was a mutant?”** he asked, his mouth full of his pastry.

Kitty shrugged her shoulders. **“It might just be a coincidence that the dates fall in that order, but it would fit.”**

Bobby nodded with understanding, brushing crumbs of his jacket. **“And would give Alex a helluva reason for hating Kelly.”**

Lorelei interjected. “It still could be a coincidence. It could’ve been an issue with her insurance,”

Kitty shook her head, sifting through her papers before finding the document she needed. **“Nope. Her work-provided medical insurance was approved and covered,”** she replied.

“Well, after the 5th MRA, hospitals were required to test DNA samples of all of their patients for the X-Gene. Does it have her results of that test?” Lorelei asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly, as if the motion itself could get her sluggish brain into gear, if only for a few moments.

Kitty flipped back and forth for a few more pages. **“…nope. It doesn’t say if they tested her for the X-Gene.”**

Kurt startled slightly at an intense warmth that settled around his arm. “She could’ve had obvious physical mutant appearances. Eef she did, zhey vouldn’t need DNA proof. Just had to call her up and say zhe procedure vas off,” he replied distractedly, looking down to see the healer’s hand glowing, ripples of golden energy cascading inside him, feeling himself relax beneath that familiar feeling.

She was healing him, her attention still diverted to the conversation at hand as if it was nothing.

“Any pictures of her circulating before her surgery?” Lorelei asked.

Kitty shook her head. **“None. Not one member of the family has any online social media accounts, and I don’t know she’s just not speaking to any of her relatives, but there is no sight of her in any photos from both side of the family.”**

**“Maybe wanted to keep the family mutant private,”** Bobby blurted out before popping another strawberry pop tart into his mouth.

Kurt sighed sympathetically, trying to cover the feeling of ecstasy that drooled from his mouth at the waves of healing energy that continued to wash over him, scratches, bruises, and aches just melting away like honey. “Lost his mom and became a mutant in zhe span of 6 months. Must be rough.”

**“Add the fact that his father just got laid off at work at a construction company for multiple accounts of working under the influence, and you got the makings of a pretty pissed of kid,”** Kitty further elaborated, plopping her data into the empty airplane seat beside her.

“He’s not social at all in school. No friends. Just sticks in his headphones and stumbles through the day,” Lorelei added, peering over to find Kurt’s hand over her glowing one. She peered up into his eyes, his eyes wide and face straining to convey a message.

_You don’t have to do this for me._

She gave him a small smile and ignored his silent plea.

Bobby clapped his hands together, bring the two mutants in New York slamming out of their silent eye conversation. **“So Double Jeopardy question: will he try it again?”**

“Well, an angry teen and the X-Men happened to infiltrate that Senator’s house all in one night, so they’ll definitely beef up the security. Maybe put a Sentinel on guard,” Lorelei replied.

Bobby shook his head. **“Didn’t answer my question.”**

A pregnant pause stifled between the four X-Men.

Lorelei shifted uncomfortably. “I…I don’t know. The anger that was spilling off of him was insane. And not a lot of it ebbed down after we faced off. It’s anyone’s guess.”

Kitty nodded in agreement. **“Which means we gotta beef up patrols on the Senator too.”**

Bobby huffed with un unknown emotion. **“Ugh, why can’t we just let the kid take Kelly out? We all want too.”**

The others waited for Kitty to scold Iceman as she religiously did, but were surprised to find a calm emotion settle over her face, as if she too felt the same. **“A mutant killing the biggest anti-mutant activist? Not only would someone replace Kelly who hates us just as much, if not more, but it’d catch the nation, the world’s attention. Countries everywhere would be calling for MRA’s, not just in New York.”**

* * *

 

 

“We not gonna call?”

 She turned up to look at her traveling companion, face shrouded by the winter night and the New Moon, save for his ruby red eyes that slayed through the darkness.

“Logan’s just gonna hang up at the sound a’ my voice,” she replied, watching as the kitchen light blinked on, pale white casting a pale illumination on few inches of glimmering white snow that covered the back patio. She imagined her former leader walking in after long-night mission and heading straight for the fridge, sheathing his claws and swiping the neck off of the bottle effortlessly, chugging the contents down in a gulp, reaching for another to nurse for the next hour a little slower.

He let out a snort beside her. “Righ’. Because te X-Men will take trespassing wit a grain a’ salt,” Gambit chided, smiling at the scornful face it drew from Rogue.

But he understood her desperation.

He would do the same thing in her position. He would do _anything_ in her position. To get out of the rut he had fallen into, going from one greedy sleaze ball to the next, both hands open, one for the bag of cash and the other for the printed instructions, would be nothing short of a blessing for him, Rogue no doubt feeling the same.

They were wanderers, never able to find someone to trust with your front or your back. The prospect of a warm mansion hundreds of feet away, promising the comfort of warm food, a warm bed, and the mentality of a team standing behind you regardless, made the Cajun want to sprint into a run for the back door, no matter which X-Men would greet him.

To think he had stolen from them not months ago, walked into that very safe haven and had given none of it a second glance. Now, it was almost as if he was being locked out of heaven.

But then again, that’s probably how she felt too. In all of her fiery passion and brusque demeanor, she would never admit this aloud, but the regret of turning around from something so stable and reliable as a home and team burned in her like acid since the day she turned her back on them, for the second time.

Something bright suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision, and he turned up to the sky above him to watch as a gold dot in the distance was rapidly approaching the backyard.

“Don’ remember seeing tat in your basement,” Remy LeBeau commented, Rogue following his upturned chin to gape with confusion at the fast approaching glittering blob.

“The hell is that?” she asked, squinting to her eyes to get a better look. Gambit looked down at her in concern at the sudden intake of a sharp breath. “Kurt?”

He looked back up, and sure enough, there was that lanky blue creeper sitting in the golden…blob. But what caught the thief-for-hire’s attention was the figure standing over the X-Man’s seated form, cape billowing beside it, and a glowing hand outstretched, pointed right at the teleporter.

What was going on up there? Was he in trouble?

His suspicion was confirmed when the young Southerner beside him gasped in shock. “She’s attacking him!”

 

* * *

 

He smiled as he watched her pull herself from the bottom of her construct, body wavering with exhaustion, knees locking stiffly together to keep her from face planting back down. “First thing I’m doing is taking a hot shower. Wash the Kelly cooties off,” she joked, though her tired, slightly slurred speech amused the teleporter more.

“Cooties? Vhat are ve, 5?” he jabbed, watching with keen night vision as the Cliffside behind the mansion steadily came into view.

The Shadow Healer huffed a weary laugh, raising a golden hand out to face Kurt. “You better be nicer to the mutant who’s about to telekinetically carry you down about 900 feet. Hate to see you take an icy, winter bath in the ocean, but these powers just aren’t what they used to be,” she ribbed back, letting the energy around her hand obviously flicker for effect. 

Kurt was seconds from responding, when a sudden force collided brutally with the side of the golden construct, sending Lorelei’s feet out from under her and her body crashing back down. The construct rocked violently, Kurt reaching furiously for the edges of the golden floor beneath him as the side tipped dangerously enough to keep Lorelei’s threat and send him pummeling for the Atlantic waves below.

The Shadow Healer quickly recovered and shot out a rigid hand, the golden glow around her intensifying as she steadied their flying vessel, Kurt collecting himself enough to peer over the edge at what had just hit them.

They were now feet from the edge of the cliff, the snowy lawn still shrouded in darkness, the light from the X-Men mansion barely even touching. But with his impressive night vision, Kurt could see two figures just behind the solitary wooden bench, their dark clothing sticking out amongst the white backdrop.

The teleporter immediately recognized the two strangers, a wide spectrum of emotions coursing through his mind. “Unmöglich!” he gasped.

But he had no time to question the craziness of the situation further as the tall male figure reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small object, the object suddenly igniting into a flame of brilliant reds and purples.

“Get down!” he yelled out, diving for Lorelei and teleporting at the last second, just as another energy blast from the figures below struck the telekinetic creation once more and destroyed it in an explosion of bright pinks and yellows.

A spurt of sulfuric smoke exploded feet above the X-Men’s lawn, the Shadow Healer and Nightcrawler dropping hard onto the ground in a collapsed heap.

Kurt was already springing up on all fours, whipping desperately around for the threat. The bench was now abandoned, and the pounding in his head blurred his vision enough to give it a radius of no more than 10 feet.

He couldn’t see them.

Suddenly, the female figure appeared beside Lorelei, the Shadow Healer now unsteadily on her feet, the stranger reaching out a bare hand to Lorelei’s unguarded neck.

Kurt turned around at the last second. “Rogue! NO!”

But just as the former X-Man turned at the sound of her former teammate’s voice, it was too late, her hand already connecting with the Shadow Healer.

Both girls suddenly cried out in pain, both frozen in place as the two were covered in flashing colors, Kurt watching, immobile, with a sick stomach, as Lorelei’s eyes grew wide and unseeing, purple veins along her head stretching out from her unblemished skin.

And just like that, Rogue’s hand detached and the connection was severed, Lorelei dropping like a pin to the ground.

Nightcrawler suddenly turned to the sound of a familiar shuffling of cards beside him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Kurt had swung his hand around, roughly grabbing the Cajun by the collar of his jacket and lifting him off the ground.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Gambit!?”

Black eyes and fire-like irises stared back at him. “Easy tere, Blue Boy! Rogue tought she was attacking yah!” Remy LeBeau hastily explained.

Kurt bared his fangs and growled, raising Gambit eve higher in the air. “I meant, vhat are you doing on our property!” he growled.

But before the charismatic Cajun could answer, an ear-piercing scream erupted beside them.

Kurt and Remy could only watch as Rogue’s tall form ignited into blazing flares of light. She screamed as light erupted and shot out form her, her body exploding into flaming licks of energy, Nightcrawler and Gambit dropping quickly to the ground, narrowly missing an energy blast that careened into one of Ororo’s bare cherry trees and set the cold frozen bark ablaze. Gambit watched as the X-Man beside him suddenly disappeared, reappearing seconds later with hands on the caped blonde’s shoulders, groaning as she rolled onto her side and lifted her head and chest from the ground.

“Ugh. Well _that_  hurt,” she grumbled, rubbing at her head.

“Petite, how are you still standing?” Gambit asked with astonishment, remembering all of the times he had dropped out, cold, from a nice grasp from the Rogue. “Tat hand slap would’a put ol’ Magneto down for a few hour siesta.”

She slowly gathered herself into a sitting position and looked over at her teammate, almost ignoring Gambit’s attempt at a compliment. “Is she a Transferer?”

Kurt nodded, watching his former teammate as she continued to yell out in distress, energy still overwhelming her body in a tornado fashion, the force of it whipping the mutants’ clothes like they were pieces of paper. “Ja.”

“The hell is goin’ on out here!?!”

All three mutants turned to the sound of Wolverine’s voice, still loud enough to be heard over the chaos within Rogue raging on beside them, Logan’s eyes widening even further at the recognition of the familiar sparkling, golden energy storming around Rogue, a few pieces of the puzzles slowly falling into place.  

Kurt couldn’t help but snort with amusement at the look on his leader’s face as he took in their blazing former teammate and her traveling buddy, the thief who had broken in to steal the Inhibitor Collar for Kelly.

They had come home from one shit show, just to walk straight into another.

But at the sound of Hank’s voice, Kurt’s smile dropped, sliding down his throat to crash into his chest like a wrecking ball.

“Shadow Healer, no! Get out of there!”

Kurt turned around, hearing himself yell amongst the chaos, watching as Lorelei was up and struggling against the whirlwind of golden energy being unleashed from Rogue, arm up to cover her face as she trudged closer to his former teammate.

Lorelei was now feet from the chaos of her rebelling energy, feet from the glowing figure in the center of it, her screams and pleas for a release howling out into the bitter cold Christmas Eve Eve night.

“It’s Rogue, right?” she called out to her, watching with renewed hope as the golden energy that erupted like fire around her snaked out like tendrils to her, wrapping around her and warming her heart as her body let them back in without a second thought.

This might actually work.

She didn’t receive a vocal reply, just a continued loop of pained screams, but got a barely perceptive nod. At least she heard her.

“Rogue, I need you to listen to me!” she called back again to the glowing figure, her wide eyes glazed over in an even brighter gold. “Your body can’t take on the energy it just absorbed! I need you to trust me, and I need you to grab my hands and syphon more energy from me!”

The glowing figure screamed even louder, furiously shaking her head.

She had to agree.

The idea was pretty out there.

“I know it seems crazy, but I need you to trust me!” she yelled back.

At first, she didn’t receive a reply. Rogue stood stock still, not even letting a moan escape her mouth as Lorelei’s energy continued to ravish against this poor girl’s body.

But then she nodded, Lorelei wasting no time in pushing straight through the incredible, whipping winds of glittering energy, keeping her eyes locked on Rogue’s shaky outstretched hand until she was upon it, pushing hers against the incredible force and tightly grabbing on to hers.

Both girls cried out, the tornado of energy intensifying ten-fold, Nightcrawler, Gambit, Beast and Wolverine shielding their eyes as winds whipped around them with unprecedented forces.

Purple trails littered Lorelei’s form as Rogue’s energy simply grew stronger, the light of her eyes shining even brighter. Lorelei could feel her body weakening, felt the transferer before her depleting her body of everything it was worth, her heart sputtering in shock for the second time that night as Rogue’s powers reached out like sickly fingers to her energy source. She could feel her energy being pulled straight through her bones, her muscles, and ripping out through her skin. Her mind blanked to cope as her body scorched with white fires, the feeling of her limbs slowly receding and the cold winter air lost its bite. Black circles immediately spotted her vision, and she could feel a warm trail of blood collecting along her upper lip.

“Nightcrawler, can you get her outta there?!” Wolverine called out to his teammate, the wind roaring around them, the X-Men leader bracing both arms against his face as the wind skidded him back against the snow covered ground, Beast and Gambit in similar predicaments.

The teleporter shook his head, hands and feet clawing desperately at the white ground for anchoring. “I can’t see anyzhing!” he called back, the two girls now swallowed up in the thick cloud of golden energy, completely out of sight.  

Then suddenly, it all paused. The air grew still, the screaming stopped, and the gold vanished. And in the blink of an eye, the air between the two girl detonated, a blast of golden energy exploding between the two, sending Nightcrawler, Gambit, Beast and Wolverine sprawling all over the ground. Kurt barely peered up in time to watch Lorelei soaring through the air above him, plummeting straight for the ground, the snow crunching with an ugly thud beneath her, Rogue thrown not as far, Gambit quickly rushing over to her fallen form.

Kurt turned back to where Lorelei had fallen and bounded over to her, Beast close behind him.

She had fallen on her back, snow piled around her from the impact, her waning adrenaline already pushing her back up onto her knees and her feet.

“Ok…that’s it. Anybody else looking for my powers tonight? Cause if you are,” Lorelei started, mouth slurring weakly over each word. But like just like that, her knees buckled and gravity pulled her back down to the ground, catching a brief whiff of sulfur before numbly feeling two warm weights catch her from under her arms a lay her head down on something warm.  “…you can have ‘em,” she finished tiredly.

A soft, raspy voice melted into her bubble. “I’m here, Schatz. Take eet easy.”

The healer felt three fingers stroking her hair, and then another hand on her wrist, a thick, hairy thumb pressing hard into the small of her wrist, making her head feel light again, as a second voice entered her bubble.

“Weak, but steady. Truthfully I don’t even how you still have one.”

The first voice returned. “Zhat vas incredible, Fraulein!”

Her mind supplied the name Kurt, albeit slowly, as there were still spots decorating her vision and an eerie numbness across her body, every nerve still aching. Her mind said the next voice was Beast.

“I must agree. Being affected by Rogue’s abilities for that long would’ve killed anyone else. How did you get it to work?”

The name Rogue filled in a few more fuzzy spots, but she couldn’t tell which ones.

She felt her throat respond, a hoarse scratch escaping through. “Same…same with the Red Knight. My powers…’r like a key. Opens only one box. Prevents people from tapping into it and misusing it. Gotta…gotta a lot stored in the ole ticker,” she replied, reaching up weakly to tap the center of her chest.

“ANNA!”

Kurt and Hank jumped at the sound of their leader’s enraged voice, just on the cusp of a wolf’s growl. “Anna!? Did he just call her Anna!?” Kurt asked.

Like a tired father, Hank sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “First name basis. This can’t be good.”

Wrenching the cowl off his face, showing the pure, unaltered feral rage building in his eyes, he stalked over to the traitor who had the gumption to not only prowl back on his nesting grounds, but to harm one from his pack.

The caged beast inside howled in the former Weapon-X’s rib cage, taunting him with the thought that in the wild, in a real wolf pack, a traitor was only granted death.  

Gambit was lifting the unsteady Southerner to her feet, as she held a hand to her pounding head, only to look up and feel her knees for weak again, but with fear, Logan’s enraged face glaring back at her, flickering with amber light and long shadows from the still burning cherry tree beside them.

He growled, “What the hell do yah think you’re doing?!”

She struggled with miniscule determination to stand tall and unwavering before her former leader.

“Me!? I thought she was attacking you guys! I was trying to save yer lives!” she retorted, wrenching her arm free from the thief beside her to face the Wolverine head on.

He gave a sharp snort in reply, face unchanging. “And when did our lives suddenly concern you!?” he spat back.

The anger and spite dropped from her face, a pained look falling over it. “Logan…come on…that’s low.”

He snorted again. “Why? Cause it’s the truth?! Get off this property, Rogue!” he howled, stepping closer to his former teammate.

Gambit quickly, yet uneasily, stepped between the two, hands up in a placating gesture in front of the X-Men leader. “Alright, everyone, come on now-“

He whipped dangerously around to meet the thief, and he snarled. “I don’t wanna hear ya open your mouth, Cajun.”

Remy hurriedly got out of his face, giving the X-Men leader a two thumbs up and made a show of pulling an invisible zipper over his lips. “Shutting my mouth.”

Rogue turned back to Wolverine. “What is wrong with you, Logan?”

Kurt felt his heart drop for Rogue, almost feeling the air shift at the fire of Logan’s fury.

Maybe that’s what Lorelei felt when she was aura-reading.

“Me!?! When are ya gonna get this through that thick skull of yours, Rogue! We don’t just pick up where ever you left off! The X-Men aren’t a toy you can just throw away when you’ve outgrown it and then played with again when you’re bored! That’s not how this works! That’s not how life works! We do not revolve around you, Rogue!” Wolverine yelled.

A heavy silence fell over the landscape, the only sound the crackling of the slowly waning embers along the bark of the trees, the only movement the rise and fall of shoulders and chests expanding quickly for more air.

Beast’s voice cut through the night air like a refreshing breath. “How about, before we say anything we’re going to regret, we take this inside? Warm up a bit.”

Wolverine whipped around to his teammate, eyes scrunched, vocal chords taut, ready to bark a cryptic response along the lines of leaving him and Rogue alone, but his eyes fell on Kurt beside him, slowly standing up with an unconscious looking Shadow Healer in his arms, her head leaning tiredly against his chest.

And something inside the feral melted, and he too heaved a heavy sigh, thinking this night could not possibly get any more complicated.

Turning back up to look at the patient McCoy, Logan gave a small nod of his head, Beast turning in response with Kurt close behind, turning around towards the back patio to the kitchen, the slender, navy legs of the Shadow Healer the only parts of her visible.

He turned back to the two intruders, almost chuckling at their faces, like deer caught in the head lights.

_Kids_ , he mused to himself.

_Never think anything through._

They took it as their cue to follow the others inside, glancing hesitantly at the X-Men leader as they passed, footsteps trepid like they were trekking through land mines. Like naughty children, a small snarl from the former Weapon X sent them into a stumbling hurry after the others.

Giving his feet a quick wipe at the door, Hank held the door open wide, Kurt slowly maneuvering his way through, Rogue and Gambit not far behind, and then closed it behind his leader, both long-standing X-Men sharing the same beat look.

_What a night._

“Just set her down easy here, Kurt. Get a washcloth and soak it under some nice warm water. See if we can bring her around for a bit. Now, I know I’ve got a med kit stashed around here somewhere,” Hank instructed, gesturing to the cushioned window seat as he began scanning over the cupboards.

Logan turned to Rogue and Gambit, shuffling their feet along the tile, glancing awkwardly about them.

Logan barked “Sit down. The two a yah.”

Chairs were quickly pulled out and the two sat beside each other on the long side.

Logan almost felt like laughing again, wishing bitterly that the Professor was there to see the spectacle before him. Gambit, former member of the Brotherhood, Magneto’s Crew and then whatever motley group Mystique had thrown together, now thief-for-hire with a list of employers that would give anyone a headache, recently intruder in the X-Mansion itself for an Inhibitor Collar that would’ve damned the mutant race for the rest of existence, was sitting like a skittish mouse at his kitchen table.

He was so tempted to brush it off as in act, all in the name of another suitcase of cash, already dreaming of the moment he got to drop kick the scumbag out into the snow with his stupid playing cards, if it wasn’t for his body completely reeking of fear.

“Logan, look—“ Rogue started.

Logan put a tired hand up, voice a little softer than before. “Save it, Rogue.”

“But Logan—“ she tried again.

He turned on her again, finger straight out in accusation. “Don’t ‘but Logan’ me. You snuck onto private property, with the crazy Cajun no less, and you took out one of ours,” he threw back, gesturing to Lorelei’s prone body on the window seat, Hank laying a soaked washcloth over her forehead to try and bring her around again.

Rogue glanced briefly at the new teammate, wondering when and where the X-Men had picked up another one, before turning back to her former leader. “I wanna come back,” she answered, before looking back to Gambit, “ _We_ wanna come back. I’m done being out on my own. I swear.”

Wolverine snorted, reaching his arms out to lean tiredly on the back of the chair closest to him, eyes closed as he wished for a cold beer in his hand. “Right. And I’m supposed ta take your word on what…good faith?” he asked.

“She’s telling the truth.”

Logan turned at the sound of that voice, watching with relief as Lorelei slowly blinked back at him, already trying to bring herself up into a sitting position, Hank putting a few more pillows behind her only to push her back down. Something in Logan’s gut twisted when the healer easily gave beneath the weight of Hank’s gentle hand, collapsing back down onto the pillows.

“Stay outta this,” he warned.

Lorelei’s eyes glazed over in a quick flash of bright gold. “They don’t mean any harm. It was just an accident. I’m fine,” she replied, her hoarse voice and slack hand in Kurt’s not helping her case in the least.

Logan knew she was right. He knew she was reading their emotions. But something in him didn’t want to believe it. He wanted this in the purest of black-and-white scenarios; Rogue had left, Gambit had stolen, and thus didn’t deserve an ear, let alone heat coming from the vents above. He didn’t want greys.

He wanted them out.

He turned back to the duo. “I don’t care if you’re all good intentions because my previous statement still stands. We don’t pick up where ever you left off. You can’t bounce around whenever you feel like it! That’s putting a team, if you cared at _all_ about, at risk!” he threw back, his voice strained and tired, and words spilling out harsher then they needed to be.

And Hank, the voice of reason as always, gently stepped in. “We’re all a little strained at the moment. We’re not going to accomplish anything simply tiredly yelling at each other. Why don’t we get some rest, sleep on it, and resume this conversation tomorrow? The holding cells are furnished and everything. Rogue and Gambit can stay there for tonight,” he supplied, voice gentle and patient to his high-strung patients.

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath as everyone turned to the X-Men leader for the final say.

After what felt like hours had passed, Logan gave a weary sigh and nod.

Hank nodded happily. “Good. Kurt, if you can bring Lor-the Shadow Healer to her room, I’ll meet you up there with some of my medical supplies from downstairs,” he instructed, Rogue and Gambit’s eyes noticeably perking at the common mutant moniker.

Kurt gently scooped his arms underneath her, Lorelei wrapping her arms around his neck, as he effortlessly lifted her up and out of the kitchen.

“You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet,” she tiredly slurred, leaning her head into his chest.

Nightcrawler gave a quiet laugh. “Oh, Schatz, I’ve got more vhere zhat came from,” he playfully teased.

Rogue couldn’t help but warm at the thought that the X-Men had taken on the Shadow Healer, just before she felt a cold metal slap against her neck and the burn of an Inhibitor Collar along her spine.

_Great,_ she thought.  _It's good to be home._

  

* * *

 

 

She took a seat beside Hank, the doctor giving her a weathered smile and an acknowledging nod before turning back to their leader in front of them, arms crossed like solid granite across his chest.

The night had done her well. She took a few hours to let the stars in her window recharge her energy reserves while Kurt and Beast had remained in her room, keeping her hydrated and warm, before they had left and she went out like a light. She had slept in until 11 the following morning, late by X-Men standards, and was welcomed with a feast of a breakfast, Hank having slaved away at the oven producing enough eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, toast and freshly cut fruit to feed an army, both him and the well rested Wolverine at the head of the table, coffee and newspaper in hand pointedly keeping quiet about the prisoners downstairs. 

“Hank’s trailed the Red Knight’s energy signature to here,” Logan began, pointing to a pulsing red marker on the projected map of the city.

_Alex Knight,_ Lorelei wanted to correct.

The minute they started giving the lost teenager a mutant moniker, he no longer became a frightened teen who needed their help. He became a fighter in the ring, whether he wanted in or not.

“What’s he doing there?” Lorelei asked, nodding to the marker.

“Dunno. We didn’t find any past connections there,” Logan replied. “My guess, he’s getting help. Figured he couldn’t take us on by himself, so he’s looking for reinforcements with other pissed off muties. Kelly’s his end game. He won’t stop ‘till he takes the Senator down.”

_NO,_ Lorelei wanted to scream.

Kelly’s not his end game. He’s just another bowling pin Alex’s looking to knock down. He’s grieving his for his mother, for his powers, for everything that went wrong in his life, and the best resolution he can come up with, the thing he feels will give him some peace, is blaming it on someone else and taking them out.

With that kind of rage he was harboring inside, letting it invade and fester, he won’t stop with Kelly. He’ll do everything he can to kill the Senator, and then move on to the next one.

And he’s not looking to amass some kind of army. If his behavior at school indicates anything, he’s a loner. He’s going to want to do this by himself.

“He’ll be looking into mutant gangs and groups. Not too many high profile ones. Most mutant activity there is pretty secretive, a lot of it underground societies,” Logan continued.

_What is he doing there,_ Lorelei asked herself.

What is his connection to Hell’s Kitchen?

Then it hit her.

Shirley Benson.

Long-standing director and chief advisor for Metro General Hospital, Chief of Staff there during the time when Margaret Knight was admitted with a malignant brain tumor.

Resides in Hell’s Kitchen, if Kitty’s detective work was accurate.

Alex isn’t there looking for reinforcements.

He’s found his next target.

If he can’t stick it to Kelly, go after the doctors following orders.

“We’re not too familiar with the area," Logan replied. 

“We’ve never had to go there before," Hank added. 

Logan turned back and nodded at the Shadow Healer. “That’s why I’m sending in Lor. Have her scope out the area first with a friend of hers, and then report back to us with info.”

Lorelei nodded her head, accepting the mission with gratitude, nothing less than thrilled to leave the tension-filled mansion for a little bit. Something told her, without her aura-reading, that the history between the Rogue girl and Logan was not something to take lightly. 

_Sorry, Kurt,_ she thought with a smile. 

“Looks like it’s time to make a deal with the Devil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's German to English Speech Translation:
> 
> “Das ist eine Untertreibung”: “That is an understatement.”
> 
> “Nicht mehr alle Tassen im Schrank haben”: This is a common German phrase for calling someone crazy but the word-for-word translation is “to not have all the cups in the cupboard anymore.”
> 
> “Unmoglish” : “Impossible!”


	12. Dancing with the Devil

Kitty peered leeringly about the entrance of the alleyway, trying to disappear further into the cotton hood of her denim jacket as she followed behind Kurt and Bobby in the shadowed backstreet in St. Albans in Queens, the early morning Sun barely coating the top of the building walls on either side.

Kurt had slipped out the mansion with the Blackbird to pick up Bobby and herself from their homes; a quick Protector's mission. She didn't know about Bobby, but Kurt needed to have her back home in Deerfield, Illinois before her father woke up to make breakfast. They needed to make this fast. 

She took one last look behind her before the trio plunged into the shadows.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Bobby gave a mocking laugh from in front of her, snapback twisted on backwards so she could see the faded, blue Fantastic 4 logo.

She couldn’t stop the small smile that grew on her face. She would rib him about it to no end, but something about Bobby’s obsession with heroes and vigilantes was comforting, and sometimes adorable.

Like they were all rooting for each other in some small way. They were always connected, always there it they needed it.

“What? Scared of a little back-alley business?” he chided, letting his hands slide into his pockets as he leaned partially back to look at Kitty over the rim of his sunglasses.

She scrunched up her face at him and stuck out her tongue, only making Bobby’s shit-eating grin grow twice in size and Kurt elicit a heavy sigh from beside him.

“Vould you two just get a room,” Kurt drawled.

The two glared over at him, Bobby reaching up and flicking Kurt’s grey flat cap. “Ok, Mr. Newsboy. Right after you return your outfit to the Smithsonian,” Bobby snarked back.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Haha, good vone—“

Shadowcat and Iceman turned at the sudden drop in Nightcrawler’s voice, turning to find the tall, lanky X-Man’s face turned from them, head tilted up toward the building’s brick wall to their right.

They followed his gaze, and soon fell silent themselves as their eyes fell on the vibrant splashes of color that were disrupting the steady plow of dust red brick.

The painting was about 5 feet from the ground and seem to extend for yards. A whole plethora of deep blues and navy’s painted a scattering of stars along the bottom of the mural, eventually climbing and contorting together as they formed a cape in mid-flight, flapping against an imaginary breeze. A light tan was sculpted into a structured oval, the same dark blue painting along the tan to form a mask. Golds and yellows reached out from the top of the oval to paint hair that spread out in every direction like rays of sunlight, all breaking up into stars at their ends.

In white cursive along a fold of the cape were the words ‘The Angel of New York.’

Bobby whistled. “Wow.”

Kurt nodded his head. “Double vow.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kitty whispered.

Bobby smirked, taking out his phone from his pocket to take a picture. “Looks like Lor’s got a fan.”

“More than _a_ fan. There are hundreds scattered all over the city,” Kitty replied. “They’re popping up all over the place.”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile, wondering if the former street mutant knew just what kind of impact she had on this city.

New York City was in love with the Shadow Healer.

Kurt suddenly turned from the mural at Kitty’s voice.

“Caliban.”

Nightcrawler followed his teammates’ gazes, watching as a splash of color reluctantly pulled itself from the comfort of the shadows.

The young Wagner was suddenly gazing upon a tall man, grey porcelain skin unblemished of hairs or scars. He was lanky in stature, skinny structure almost folding with the small winter breeze that whistled along the wall of the nearby buildings.

His downward expression bore a mouth and eyes that seemed perpetually held in an emotionless bind. He wore a thin, rag-like top and similar cropped pants with only socks on his feet despite the frigid temperature.

Though half-closed his eyes were large and round, the pupils merely a spec, a hole made by the end of a needle.  

He leaned down towards Shadowcat beside him, whispering discreetly in her ear. “So now vhat?”

Bobby seemed to have heard his comment. “I can break out the whole ‘we come in peace bit,’” he suggested, making Spock’s notorious hand gesture.

Kitty was on him in milliseconds, giving a brutal punch to his arm, followed by a slap to the back of his head by Kurt. “That’s so insensitive, Bobby!” she sharply whispered to him.

“It is, but in all fairness to him, my appearance is a bit startling.”

All three X-Men stopped, slowly turning to the ghost-like figure still standing before them.

Kitty was the recovery, albeit slowly. “Sorry. We’re just…uh…”

The mutant gave a small downward tuck of his head, nodding to Kitty in understanding. “Friends of the Shadow Healer, I am aware.”

“Well this is awkward,” Bobby whispered over to them, earning him yet another whack to the back of the head from Nightcrawler.

Kurt turned from the ice mutant back to the stranger. “Ve’re looking for Archangel, one of Nathaniel Essex’s associates.”

Kurt saw a flicker of some unreadable emotion flash across Caliban’s face, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. “Mister Sinister? It’s been a long time since I’ve been asked to find one of his.” 

His body paused, the air around him holding its breath, and Kurt was about to repeat his question when the locating mutant spoke up. “He’s in a warehouse in Brooklyn. 23rd and 8th.”

“Must be their base of some sort,” Kitty said under her breath to her two teammates beside her. She projected her voice louder this time. “Thank you, Caliban.”

The three Protectors were about to turn back around, Kitty already looking as if she was about to sprint her way out the alley, when Caliban’s slurred rasp called them back. “I have a warning for the Shadow Healer to return with.”

They turned back around.

“A varning?” Kurt asked.

Bobby tiled his chin for Caliban to continue. “About what?”

“The people Archangel has allied with are ones you do not want to tangle with.”

The X-Men turned inquisitively to each other. Nathaniel Essex was certainty a garden variety of threats, but nothing their team hadn’t faced before.

Kurt turned back to Lorelei’s informant. “Mr. Sinister? His bark eez worse zhan his bite.”

Caliban gave a slow shake of his head. “No, it’s who employs Nathaniel Essex that you should be forewarned of.”

Bobby crossed his arms across his chest, eye brows twirled with confusion. “Sinister’s someone else’s lackey? Since when?”

“Recently. Two names have circulated along the streets, and it’s not names to be taken lightly. Mesmero and Mastermind. Names credited with decades’ worth of crimes and mutants with dark origins,” Caliban responded, Nightcrawler, Iceman and Shadowcat slowly letting the street mutant’s words sink in.

It was Kitty who finally broke the silence, hesitant in asking for fear of an answer they weren’t ready to hear, as the Professor’s words just after the Phoenix Release rang across her mind.

_However, I fear our fight’s only begun._

“What do they want with Sinister and his people?” she asked.

“There is talk of darkness over the horizon. An evil the world has not yet encountered, and will be in no shape to fight. It brings with it old chaos, ancient powers of destruction that has failed before but will not again. It has waited for the moment to strike, and now is the time. Mesmero and Mastermind, along with Sinister, are working for this chaos. Consider yourselves warned.”

Caliban gave one last look at the three, hoping that these X-Men could do something with the information he could not.

“It’s a darkness no light can destroy.”

And with that, Caliban slinked back into the comfort of the overhanging shadows and disappeared from sight.

Kurt and Kitty were pulled from their daze at the sound of a sharp snort beside them. “ _Charming_ ,” Bobby quipped.

  

* * *

 

 

 “I swear, I don’t know nothin’!”

He felt himself grin, flecks of his five o’clock shadow scratching at the edge of his mask, the man’s heart skittering in fear as he stalked closer and closer to him.

All the elements were in his favor tonight.

The night was cold but clear, no overcast or fog heavying the air currents around him.

Fisk’s former prison mate, Reagan Gordon, was just released on good behavior a few days prior to, and his presence on the streets almost immediately made it to Hell Kitchen’s vigilante.

So the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen tracked the former Russian mob member down, the less-than-intelligent books keeper cornering himself into an empty apartment roof top, giving the vigilante the advantage of height and solitude.

He listened carefully to way Gordon’s palms grappled at the gravel beneath them, the way his old denim jeans slid roughly along his legs, how his feet slid loosely around in his large boots, how the air currents bristled past him, catching and tugging at a slight beard crawling down from his hair and circling along his chin.

The red-cladded vigilante waited a few more seconds for the world on fire to paint the embers of the picture before him, before reaching out a hand like a coiled snake and snatching the flaps of Gordon’s flannel and lifting the man off his feet.

“What’s Fisk up to?” he growled, throat gurgling with acid and the howls of beast inside waiting for release.

He cocked his head, zoning in on the enormous thud and plop Gordon’s heart made as he dropped him back on the ground, the sound and smell of sweat collecting along his hairline, and the hitch of his breath lodged deep in his throat.

There was level of fear associated with the sound of the Kingpin’s name being rolled off the tongue, like a monster under the bed everyone was warned of.

And the man before him reeked of fear.

“Fisk? Why yah asking me about Fisk? I don’t know nothin’ bout Fisk,” Gordon stumbled out, voice losing all reserve and footing it had before.

He felt the beast inside him laugh, squeezing his fist to crack his knuckles, watching with enjoyment at the slight jump the burly man before him made. “I beg to differ. Word is you’re helping him with some financial papers. Care to elaborate what was on those papers?”

“Man, I dunno. Just…yah know…makin’ sure the big man doesn’t fall into debt. Balancing his checkbook kinda thing, that’s all.”

Daredevil let his throat burn with an angered growl, not at all concerned about the hike in the man’s heartbeat it caused.

He wasn’t looking to scare to send a message. He wanted to strike fear to illicit the spill of information.  

His city was crawling with rumors, some of black-clad ninjas of Japanese origin lurking in the silent shadows, some of a vindictive man within Sing-Sing pulling the strings of arms dealers and mob leaders based in the Kitchen.

But that’s all they were; rumors. Someone-who-knew-someone-who-knew-someone-knew- _something_.

Both were meandering about his streets for something, The Hand possibly looking for another leader, Fisk most likely just preparing their little section of New York for his release.

And yet, he couldn’t find anything, on anybody.

He went looking for old informants, who were either dead or no longer residing in the Kitchen. He tried to identify knew ones, cartels and rings that were barely on their feet yet, hoping any of them had their ear to the ground about their competition.

Nothing. No one seemed to know anything but little snid-bits from a guy who knew a guy, and so on and so forth.

And so the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen stalked the streets, spending seconds on a petty crime, before bounding off for another rooftop to continue his pacing. Waiting and watching, fists growing more antsy as scrappy knuckles began to itch with healed skin, anxiousness festering into impatience, which now simply sat as anger ready to be riled up.

So he had nearly fallen onto to his knees with gratitude when a novice loan shark had admitted to knowing where Reagan Gordon was being currently employed, hoping it would lessen the force behind the Devil’s fist that had hung inches from his face. 

It didn’t.

“I think you’re leaving out some important details there, Gordon. I think, while the two of you shared a cell, watching each other piss, he gave you reigns to some of his accounts,” he growled, tracking the slightly shorter man as he stumbled fearfully in place, desperately searching for a way off the rooftop.

Unfortunately for him, the only way off was to fall.

There was a sudden hike in Gordon’s pulse, and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen inwardly cursed at himself for not keeping better watch of his surroundings, assuming someone else had joined them on the roof.

But the sudden heat that warmed the air around him, the sound of energy crackling and the sudden block in air currents brushing against his face from somewhere off to his right wasn’t a problem for him.

In fact, it made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen smirk.

“You’re late.”

There was sweet, higher-pitched chuckle that carried through the air, as the sparking heat grew closer, making some of his hairs stand on edge.

“Sorry. Got stuck in traffic. Pigeon rush hour.”

He snorted, shaking his head.

Pebbles scratched against skin, denim caught on gravel, breath hitched and spurted; Mr. Gordon was trying to make a run for it. Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with 2 of New York’s most perceptive vigilantes, who had eyes in the back of _his_ head.

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said you could leave? We’re just chatting,” the Shadow Healer replied, Daredevil hearing the rub of fabric as her arm left her side, feeling yet another surge in magnificent heat, and then the settling of rubble beneath Reagan’s feet.

Fisk’s former accountant swiveled around to face the two vigilantes.

The slight tremor in his voice and the unsteady palpitations of his heart betrayed the confidence he tried to project into his snide remark. “Yeah, and who’s gonna stop me, huh? _The Shadow Healer_? You’re not gonna hurt me.”

Said vigilante smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I’m an X-Man now. Job description’s a little different. A little more… _lenient_ ,” she purred maniacally, Daredevil amused at the sly and provocative tone she had taken on. Her persona would’ve been very convincing had it not been for the uncertain hiccups in her heartbeat.

She was slightly fearful herself of what the devil of Hell’s Kitchen had in store for the man she was telekinetically holding still. She was treading in unknown territory. This wasn’t an innocent citizen who needed healing. This wasn’t a virtuous bystander in danger. This was just a taste of the shadow dwellers in New York City that danced freely over the thin line between good and evil.

And many times, to take on the larger threats, you needed to dance _with_ them. 

“Let me go, you little blonde brat. You don’t have the balls to do anything to me.”

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen only shook his head in pity. Now Gordon was just asking for it.

And suddenly, Gordon gave a sharp scream and the air currents shifted from Daredevil, Fisk’s former cell mate floating midair before his face, the intense wall of heat and prickling electricity radiating out from Gordon’s body indicating her abilities at work at keeping the ex-con floating just over the edge of the rooftop.

“Now, I believe I was interrupting you before, Daredevil. My apologies. He’s all yours,” she said, stepping aside to let him through.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen approached the raised edge of the building, feeling the sudden shift to open air bristle against his exposed chin. They were at least 200 feet off the ground.

“What’s Fisk up to, Gordon?” he growled, voice raising above Gordon’s screams and yelps of fright, as the upward draft pulled at the flaps of his clothing. His heart was echoing like a base drum. “You tell me something useful, and I’ll let you off with a warning. You don’t, and my friend here will let you splatter along the streets you terrorize.”

Gordon wasn’t buying the show, trying his best to sound bored. “Yeah, right. The Shadow Healer and Daredevil team-up? What am I, being pranked right now?”

Daredevil tilted his head with curiosity when she gave a slight hum of amusement beside him, before the air currents around them quickly shifted, silence filling the void where Gordon had once been dangling as his high-pitched screams began traveling further away.

She had dropped him.

But just as quick as the Shadow Healer had released her hold, she twisted her fingers back out to the falling ex-con and grabbed at a foot, hauling him back up to their level.

His face was upside down and inches from Daredevil’s, nicotine-laced breath clawing at the insides of Matt’s nose as each breath hitched in and out, startled yelps gurgling in the back of his throat.

“Ok, ok, ok,” he spewed out fearfully.

Daredevil inched closer to his face.

“Talk. While I still have patience.”

“I-I-I don’t know much. F-Fisk never said anything to me. I don’t know what _he’s_ up to. One of his henchmen came looking for me. Bitch scared off a customer. K-Kept going on about Fisk planning a b-break-out soon, a-and needing s-s-someone to work his cash flow. I-I’m supposed to sit around and w-wait for that fat man to get out.”

Good. Now they were getting somewhere.

“Does this person have a name?” Daredevil pushed.

“N-never gave me one. Pretty broad, though. F-funny accent too. Said-said she’d be in touch.”

_Vanessa._

Where ever Fisk had stashed her, it seemed she was pulling the ropes now, preparing the city for her lover’s long awaited return.

“I swear, man, that’s all I know.”

And sadly, it was the truth. His heartbeat wasn’t hiding anything more. Which meant Vanessa had proposed the idea to Gordon with the full intent of visiting him again with a confirmation. Whether or not he wanted it, Gordon was now in Vanessa’s radar, which meant if he said yes, he would be completely and utterly at the mercy of Fisk’s vindictive lover.

If he said no, no one would find the body.

He tilted his head to his left where he could still smell the mix of the burning of her abilities and her perfume, and gave a slight nod of his head.

She picked up on his unspoken words and released Gordon, all 200 pounds of him crackling down upon the gravel roof. His breath was coming out in fast pants now, his lungs now able to work and struggling to catch back up to his speeding heart.

“Ahhh, th-thank you,” he struggled out, limbs shaking as hard as his breath.

Daredevil peered down at him. “Don’t thank me. I’m still using you as bait.”

And with that gave a quick, striking punch to his head, Gordon dropping flat to the ground. He could hear the Shadow Healer’s silent cringe bedside him.

“We are kind of an unlikely duo,” she muttered uncertainly, crouching down beside the unconscious ex-con.

Daredevil straightened and let his hearing settle in again to take in his broader surroundings. “New York’s Angel and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Alright, I’ll give you that.

 

* * *

 

 

 “Ok, woah. Rewind and freeze. You fought off ninjas with Stick, Elektra and the Punisher?”

Matt paused, sensing the young mutant stop just a few stairs in front of him, head turned back to face him, the extra whiff oranges and cottage cheese wafting from her suggesting her mouth was hanging open.

He nodded up the stairs for her to continue, skipping a step to fall in step beside her.

“Come on, keep up, Lor. You need to be briefed before you step into that office,” he urged, already smelling the remnants of Karen’s attempt at making coffee, and Foggy’s breakfast of a greasy egg and cheese sandwich from Kristy’s down the block. “Foggy was thinking of shutting down the office and got an offer from Hogarth to be a partner of the firm, but for some reason declined. Karen also declined Ellis’s offer to work for him as a journalist, and both are kind of, not really, talking to me,” he continued.

He listened to the young girl beside him guffaw, her hand slapping at her still chilled forehead. “That still leaves _so_ many unanswered questions but…whatever I guess. Long-story-short, you screwed up. No surprise there,” she lightly quipped, giving the Daredevil a small elbow in the side, trying to elicit an expression other than the dismal scowl he bore at the moment.

But she deflated when he released a heavy sigh, and his frown seemed to fall beneath the weight of gravity.

“Yeah, no surprise there,” he replied, stopping just barely before the door to the office, the heavy Nelson and Murdock plaque on the doorway seeming to weigh him down heavier than ever before.

He sighed again, fingers twisting nervously along his cane. “Here we go.”

His hand slowly released its vice like grip from his cane to reach out and turn the squeaky knob of the door, the sound that once made him cringe now making his heart stop. He opened the door, and tried to lose himself so far deep into the familiar smells of the office space as to avoid the carnage that lay waiting.

“Matt…hey.”

He turned to the desk before him, Lorelei watching with a mix of emotions at the smile Matt was throwing to his ex, who in turn seemed to bare a similar expression.

Both turned their heads at the sound of footsteps, pausing just below the doorway of an office to their right.

“Good morning, Karen. Foggy,” Matt responded, nodding to his partner.

Lorelei turned excitedly to finally see Franklin Nelson, the man Matt Murdock could not stop talking about since the day she met him. He was about the same height as Matt, a little heavier with blond hair that hung just at chin level. His lips were smushed together, as if the bottom was attempting to turn upward in a smile, and the top wanted to hang low in a frown.

The long staring match between the three of them finally released to spot the extra person in the room. Foggy threw on a full smile as he approached her.

“Sorry about that. I’m Foggy Nelson,” he greeted, stretching out his hand to shake, Lorelei trying to contain her glee as she firmly returned the gesture, hoping her wide smile didn’t portray just how excited she was to meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s best friend.

“I’m Karen. Nice to meet you,” the blonde pipped from the center desk, the Shadow Healer smiling over to her.

“Hi, my name’s Lorelei Howlett,” turning subtly towards her partner-in-crime, hoping to get a sense of how equipped Matt was at conversation. His body still seemed paused in the minute that had just passed, so she stepped in to finish explaining her presence. “I’m a student at Bayville High in North Salem. I reached out to Mr. Murdock in hopes that I could maybe shadow you all for a little bit. I’m very interested in law, and was hoping to get a better look at it.”

She released a small breath at Karen’s smile at her explanation, and by the pinks and yellows that gathered around her body. She bought it, hook, line and sinker.

Now it was just getting the experienced lawyer, someone who has developed a keen sense of telling when someone was lying, to believe her.

But she turned to him disheartened to find Foggy Nelson seeping in light blues, edges laced with traces of scarlet red.

He saw right through the façade.

She wanted to take the heel of her boot and slam it so hard down on Matt’s foot, and scream at him to _abort, abort, ABORT!_ _Abandon ship, Captain. Stormy seas dead ahead._

The last thing their tumultuous friendship needed at the moment was the strain of another lie between them.

But apparently detecting someone thinking ‘I call bull’ was not in Matt’s arsenal of abilities, because there he still stood in the thick of tension still building between the three coworkers of words needing to be said.

The Shadow Healer sighed to herself.

_This was going to be a long week._

 

* * *

 

 

 She let the sharp chill of the December morning scratch along the seams of her sweater to her frozen skin, watching as each warm breath painted the air around her vision a crisp grey, matching the overcast above.

A voice brought her attention back down to the phone in her hand. “Where the heck did you find this guy?”

She smiled and turned down to the Protectors, all dressed in comforting sweats, the pale illumination above their heads and spots of wood peeking out from around their faces hinting they were probably stowed away in their secret North Tower room.

“Caliban? Yeah, he’s an interesting character. I healed him once, years ago, and in return he created the mind blocks in my head,” she said, turning from the edge of the building’s roof and walking closer to its center, gravel crunching beneath her footsteps.

She wondered if Matt could hear their conversation.

Probably.

“Is that why Jean can’t get a read on you?” Kitty’s voice chimed through her ear phones.

It was clear her words had not been properly thought through when she turned down to her screen to see Bobby, sitting at the main swivel chair in front of the computer, face twisted in a cringe, Kurt leaning over Bobby’s right, eyes wide and round and mouth drawn tight, and Kitty, who immediately clasped a hand over her mouth after the words were said.

She had just dropped confidential information. Not only that, she had dropped _hurtful_ confidential information.

The voice in Lorelei’s head chided that the X-Men didn’t seem to operate without secrets, no matter who they were between.

Kitty offered the only reply her mind was capable of producing. “Sorry.”

_Sorry you did it, or sorry you let it slip?_

Lorelei gave a leisured, good-natured shrug. “No worries. I knew she’s been trying to get in there. She’s subtle, but not that subtle,” Lorelei replied nonchalantly, tapping her head comically to show that she truly did not care about it as much as they probably assumed she did.

Their faces still seemed paused in their wide stretch, minds still processing the fact that they had just spilled the X-Men’s secret recipe in dealing with new comers.

2 cups of Danger Room analyzation, a 1/3 cup of a mind snooping telepath, and a few dashes of we’ll-make-it-feel-like-we-trust-her-out-of-the-gate-so-she’s-less-suspicious-of-us.

Unfortunately for them, she was street kid. Everyone reeks of mistrust, no matter who they are. She had the team’s number down the moment she called Logan back on that prepaid phone and told him she wanted in.

Kitty still seemed hurt and distraught. “Lor, I’m sorry it’s just--”

“Guys, relax!” Lorelei exclaimed, practically giggling at their guilty faces “I get it! The streets knew about the Phoenix Release. You guys got trust issues. I respect that. 17-year-old Level 8 mutant shows up on your doorstep one day and you wanna make sure she’s not gonna pull another Emma Frost.”

She truly did not blame them for doing what they were doing. That bleach blonde Academy tyrant had gained enough of a reputation on the streets as the world’s coyest and craftiest manipulator.

She could only imagine what she put the X-Men through to get her manicured nails on the Phoenix Force.

“Still doesn’t excuse our behavior,” Kurt replied, looking completely crestfallen and immersed in guilt. And Lorelei couldn’t even read his aura through a screen.

She sighed, hoping immensely to drop this conversation right where it was. She didn’t need pity. “No, but it explains it. And that’s all I really need,” she reassured.

Bobby seemed to spring back from the thick air of regret settling over there in North Salem and turned back to the healer. “So why the mind blocks?” he asked.

She smiled.

“It was Caliban who suggested them. There are a lot of dirty street telepaths that are known for forcing homeless kids to do their bidding. Didn’t want to get roped up into that,” she explained, hoping to stuff as much bravado into her words to prevent another somber staring match between her and her teammates.

She failed.

“Damn,” Bobby said.

Kurt nodded. “You said it.”

Alright, enough of this crap.

“So, the meeting. How did it go?” she asked, praying to knock them out of this morose daze.

She piqued Kitty’s attention. “We got Archangel’s location. It’s an abandoned warehouse down on the east side of Brooklyn.”

Lorelei smiled and rolled her eyes. “Of course it is,” she said, making both Kurt and Bobby smile.

“We’re doing a little stake out down there tonight,” Bobby added.

A stakeout?

Up against Archangel and Mr. Sinister?

Kurt pulled her attention back to the Skype conversation. “Ve also got names of a few heavy hitters Sinister’s working vith.”

“And who’d that be?” she asked.

“Mesmero and Mastermind. Ever heard of them?” Bobby asked.

“Mastermind, yes. Only rumors though. Big time illusionist and mind-manipulator. Mainly stuck to Europe when it came to crime. Mesmero, no,” she replied.

Kitty bit her lip before continuing. “Well, Caliban told us that the three of them are in cahoots and working to revive some long-dead chaos that’s failed before, but won’t this time around and that light can’t destroy.”

Lorelei’s eyes twitched up in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bobby pointed to himself, bringing his legs up to rest on the computer desk. “My thoughts exactly! Seriously though, his warning sounded like something straight out of a fortune cookie from a Star Wars movie,” he exclaimed.

She gave a small smirk. “Yeah, that sounds like Caliban.”

“Anyway to get a more detailed warning from him?” Kitty asked, leaning in closer to the camera.

Lorelei shook her head. “He’s more of a locating telepath. When he does get brief visions of people’s thoughts, and they’re few and far between, his mind can’t filter out unwanted thoughts and he gets overloaded with info. He pulls what he can,” she explained.

Kitty sighed wearily. “Well, it’s the only thing we’ve got to work with so far as to what the heck is going on with all of these weird…anomalies I guess; the rogue Sentinel, the biochemical warfare agent in Africa, Warren on the Brooklyn bridge.”

Lorelei tilted her head curiously at her fellow Protectors. “You guys think they’re all connected?”

Kitty turned uncertainly to Kurt and Bobby, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Kind of. Maybe,” she said.

Kurt turned confidently back to the screen. “I zhink zhey are.”

Lorelei gave him a nod of her head to continue. “How?”

“Zhey’re all too random,” he started, arms crossed along his chest in thought, “No vone’s come to claim their ‘work of chaos’ and zhey’re all involving influential people who don’t like zhe little mutant.”

“The little mutant?” Lorelei asked.

Kurt smiled. “Yes. Us little 1-3 level mutants who are just trying to blend in with everybody else. Our powers are too weak for Sinister’s experiments and Kelly only likes us if we’re stationed on an isolated island out of his hair.”

Lorelei nodded her head in acceptance.

It was a solid theory.

It would explain the attacks. None of them targeted powerful or trained mutants. The bridge, the streets, and even the tribes all had low-level mutants, nothing over 3, or X-Genes without manifested abilities.

“Ok, but even if they are involved, we all know them well enough than to assume they’d be behind this. Kelly’s not one to do something without plastering his name on it, and Sinister wouldn’t have bothered with the Brooklyn Bridge just to send a message to Kurt and I,” Lorelei countered.

Bobby put up a finger to counter. “Caliban said that Sinister is _working_ for Mesmero and Mastermind,” he replied.

Lorelei let her gaze fall back upon the hazy sky, smoke from buildings merely blending in, adding to the disoriented haze that seemed to have fallen upon the streets, as she let Bobby’s words sink in.

“Ok, but if that’s the case, why?” she asked. “I know nothing about Mesmero, but Mastermind is credited with some pretty hefty murders, heists and illegal arms dealing over in Europe, and has never been caught. He’s a genius at his work. Why bother with this little fanfare of absolutely useless events?”

Bobby suddenly threw his hands up in surrender and shut his eyes, shaking his head. “Alright, this is all making my brain hurt. We’re just pulling at strings and theories. None of this is concrete.”

Kitty huffed, mirroring Kurt’s posture, shoulder leaning comfortably back with arms crossed along her chest. “At least we seem to be on page with the others. It doesn’t look like they’ve stumbled onto anything solid so far,” she added, with some distaste.

Kurt clapped his hands resolutely. “So then we work with something solid. The stakeout’s tonight. Maybe we can put some pieces together about all of this,” he said, adding some much needed gumption and energy to the conversation.

“Aw, yes! Protector’s suits!” Bobby exclaimed, punching the air with enthusiasm. "Wish I was there, buddy."

Lorelei’s face suddenly bore a worried look. “Ok, but please be careful, Kurt. If anything goes south, I’m a quick fly away.”

She didn’t doubt Kurt’s abilities. He was an incredible fighters, expert as a mutant and skillfully trained in both forms of combat, hand-to-hand or power-to-power.

But Sinister wouldn’t let his precious experiment out of his sight, meaning where ever Warren was, Nathaniel Essex and his crew were in the vicinity.

Kurt threw her a smile and the ‘ok’ sign, but she was in no way comforted.

“What are you doing in the Kitchen anyway?” Kitty asked, drawing the healer back out of her thoughts.

“With an old friend following up on a lead on Alex,” she replied, gesturing with a turn of her head to behind her, where the roof’s door led back down the maintenance stairwell to the floor where Nelson and Murdock’s office lay.

Kurt’s eyes piqued with interest. “Vhat’s _he_ doing in Hell’s Kitchen?”

She threw them smile laced with sarcasm. “ _Logan_ thinks he’s here to join an underground mutant cult,” she replied, her amusement evident in her voice.

She got a range of chuckles from all her fellow X-Men, Bobby slapping a hand to his forehead.

“You’re not buying it?” Bobby asked, amused.

Lorelei shook her head. “Shirley Benson lives here, the lead physician where Alex’s mother was supposed to receive her surgery.”

The gravity of her statement pummeled through the screens and knocked the smiles clear from the Protector’s faces, each face turning somber and serious.

“Oh my gosh,” Kurt whispered.

Kitty put a hand to her head, as if to physically steady the onslaught of implications that took form with the new X-Man’s words. “Kelly was just the tip of the ice berg. The kid’s looking for vengeance on anyone that’s done him wrong.”

“Or at least whomever wronged his mother,” Lorelei replied.

“Forget me being careful. You be safe! Eef you need me, I’ll be zhere eef zhings start gettink hairy,” Kurt said, wide, yellow eyes trying desperately to convey to the healer to not jump into the fray as she seems to so readily do. 

He had been there when Alex had tried to sap the healer of the other side of her powers, the energy coursing through with incredible power.

He had failed, just like Rogue had merely hours later. And there she was, already adjusting her cape and flying right back in for Round 2.

He had seen her at the Kelly’s estate, screaming in pain as the Red Knight seemed to pull her very blood from her body.

And he was there when Rogue had ambushed them, picking her limp body from the ground, muscles unnervingly lax, pulse too slow for his liking and eyes looking but not seeing.

She had bounced back, unscathed, from both. But she was left too weak in the aftermath to be able to properly defend herself.

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Kurt.”

The teleporter wasn’t comforted.

Kitty didn’t seem to be either. Bearing her ever famous ‘Mom glare’ eyes pointed and calculating, she asked the obvious question. “Who’s the friend you’re working with? Will he be a liability?”

Lorelei body jerked with a hushed laugh, thoughts falling back to her poor ‘liability’ downstairs stuck in a war zone between an ex and a friend who were, for reasons unknown to him, sticking around. “No, you don’t have to worry about him.”

“So who is this guy? Do we know him? Another sketchy contact that talks like Grandmother Willow from Pocahontas?” Bobby quipped, Kitty’s head immediately jerking back in total bewilderment at Iceman, mouthing _Pocahontas_ to herself.

Lorelei gave a shrug. “Possibly.”

All three Protectors threw her a deadpan expression. _Cut the bull._

She gave a small, almost guilty smile. “I think the newspapers are catching on to the name Daredevil.”

She could almost feel the air in Hell's Kitchen explode with surprise.

“Daredevil!?” they almost seemed to simultaneously exclaim.

Bobby kept going, his surprise very clearly turning to pure excitement, where Kurt and Kitty remained steadfast in their very parent-like concerned surprise. “As in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, _Daredevil_? As in the red leather guy with horns that put down Fisk, _Daredevil_!?”

Lorelei nodded. “That would be him.”

Bobby was smiling, Kitty’s jaw was no doubt laying idly somewhere along the sidewalk, and Kurt’s cringed expression was starting to look like it hurt.

Bobby. “That’s totally wicked!”

Kitty. “Lorelei, are you insane!?!”

Kurt. “You know how to pick zhem.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”

He responded with an affirmative eye raise, eyebrows ghosting over the rim of his red glasses.

That had been nothing _but_ awkward.

And what saddened Matt the most was that the tension, the daintiness that was used in conversation between them, had nothing to do with Lorelei.

If it was, Matt would be nothing short of relieved.

Because it would simply be a matter of warming up to Lorelei. And if all else failed, she would simply leave at the end of the week as planned, and the office would fall right back into place.

Easy conversation, even easier complaints and a comradery Matt dare say he enjoyed sometimes more than tackling cases.

But, to his dismay, it had nothing to do with their new intern. If anything, she had fueled every conversation that had trickled briefly throughout the long day between them.

No, the uneasiness festering between Foggy, Karen and himself all rested on the dynamite he had ignited along their friendship, sparks burning with the damned visage of a horned mask.

He gave an indignant snort. “You’re telling me.”

He could feel the shift in energy settling in front of him where she sat, small talk in the air floating around him now gurgling with weight in her chest, body turning to face him head on.

She meant business. It was the Shadow Healer he was talking to now.

“Ok, now that we got the place to ourselves, and our extracurricular activities don’t start until around 11, you’re filling in some holes for me,” she started, one leg crossing over the other as she settled deeper into her seat, weighting herself for what was to come.

Some part of him wished he had a bottle of that cheap beer in his fridge, wanting to find solace and emptiness in the fermented plant than in the truth she was waiting for.

He slipped his glasses off, lightly dropping them on the packets in front of him, letting the dull bounce of metal on paper ground him.

“This might take a while,” he replied, hand sneaking up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

She didn’t stir. “We haven’t met up at the gym in what, a week or so? Has that much really happened?”

He gave a single sharp laugh, tongue tasting in longing at the cheap perfume and even cheaper aftershave that still littered the air from his coworkers. “Well, when I screw up once, it kinda has a domino effect on the rest of the world.”

She finally gave a sharp snort of air. “Way to be humble about it,” she deadpanned.

Silence.

Taxi driver.

Used coffee beans.

Florist with a smoker’s cough.

Teenager walking a dog.

Silence.

“So,” she hazarded.

He gave a heavy sigh and responded, “ _So_.”

She inched closer to him, arms now on the edge of his desk, long fingers seesawing between each other. “The Frank Castle case. I did a little online surfing today and I think I’ve been properly brought to date on it. You were pretty absent for most of the trial and your statement sparked too much of a riot. And I assume that’s what has Foggy in a tiff.”

Matt almost laughed, because Foggy’s tiffs were what he was pleading for in that moment.

Foggy’s tiffs lasted all about a few minutes, before his own infectious humor seeped into his own thoughts and conversation, and then it was gone.

No, Foggy was not just ticked.

He was that kind of boiling anger that was hot to touch, but when push came to shove, the hot water bubbles popped and over-flooded the rim, and you got burned.

Matt gave a small downward tip of his hand. “That has some to do with it, yeah.”

“But you know he’s not really mad at you, right?” she asked, head tipped downward as she truly could catch his line of sight.

Matt shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure his grudge is with me. And for good reason. I was absent for most of the trial and then I go and throw our credibility out the window when I started questioning Frank,” he answered, hands suddenly ripping his tie away from his neck, as if the guilt of what he done was slowly tightening its hold along his throat.

Her breath hitched slightly at the slight force behind his words, but then it evened back out.

“Did you watch his opening statement?” she asked.

He sighed again. He noticed he was doing that a lot lately. “Yeah…I mean yes, I did. It was good. For something so off the cuff, it was good.”

It was. Foggy always liked to make Matt give opening and closing statements, joking that Matt was better at playing with the heart strings, whether through his words or his ‘blind, puppy dog’ routine.

Foggy’s statement during Castle’s trial was a reminder that his legal partner was just as swift and cunning when it came to toying with people’s own morals and integrity.

“But did you _really_ listen to it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Foggy isn’t mad at you. He’s mad at himself.”

“Alright, councilor. What’s your evidence?”

All he heard were the minute squish of skin along her cheeks, but he knew she was smiling. He always did. The energy in the room seemed to ignite when she did, as if she was using her immense abilities.

He listened as her body raised itself from her seat, and she stood at attention before him and cleared her through.

He smiled in amusement, and leaned back in his chair, hands resting on his chest to watch the show that was no doubt about to unfold.

He blamed himself for even mentioning it.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the grand jury, I want you to step back and think about the man in questioning for a moment. He is a man of good morals and integrity, a man our witness,” she started, hand outstretched to gesture toward him, “Matthew Michael Murdock, has repeatedly mentioned would never hurt a fly, let alone hold a grudge against a good friend of all things.”

Her voice was firm and clear, loud and commanding like it had been on the rooftop with Reagan. He pictured her pacing along the front of a courtroom, voice echoing off the cherry walls. He couldn’t help but think back to his small moment with Frank before he was arrested.

_You would have made a helluva marine, Red._

Sitting there, he found himself thinking the same of Lorelei. She could lead armies with the conviction in her voice.

He snapped back to the present as she continued. “In my client, Foggy Nelson’s, opening statement during the People vs. Frank Castle trial, he openly observes and comments on the corruption within the justice system, which ultimately led to the death and cover up of Frank Castle’s family’s murder.”

So far, this wasn’t helping. This was just reminding him of badly he had let down his firm.

And his friend.

“However, ladies and gentlemen, this is a man raised and educated with the fundamental belief that our country is founded on an indomitable system of checks and balances that assures and provides each and every one of us with the opportunity of justice,” she continued, slowly starting to pace along the front of his desk, as if addressing a jury, stopping by each seat to look at them directly in the eye, see the emotions playing across her face.

Marine Corps Captain, Defense Attorney; if the Shadow Healer ever decided to retire, Lorelei Howlett had an onslaught of possibilities at her fingertips.

She paused briefly to collect her thoughts. “And that as a lawyer, he has the responsibility to not only trust this system, but uphold it. On a daily basis, ladies and gentlemen, Foggy Nelson must uphold the system he seems to have lost faith in, as he watches his best friend go out and fight for people that same system has abandoned.”

No. This just wasn’t making him feel bad for his screw-ups.

This was torturing him.

He was just about to tell Lorelei to stop.

“That’s why, people of the grand jury, my client cannot be mad at Matthew Michael Murdock,” she said, stopping to stand before his desk.

To stand before him, as he sat speechless.

“For at the root of it, ladies and gentlemen, he is at war with himself, with his educated mind that stands with the infallibility of the Justice System, and his heart that, much like Daredevil’s, stands with the people.

“Matthew Murdock, and Daredevil, are simply a reminder to my client of a war within him between what is legally right but is now wrong, and what is legally wrong but has now become right.”

 

* * *

 

“Is she okay?”

He peered down at the brown leather of his shoes, shining beneath the ugly fluorescent lights above, on last time, before collecting himself picking his back up from leaning against the glass wall and turning around.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands tucked nervously between her knees as she regarded him those big, green eyes.

He stared her down, arms crossed defiantly over his chest, masking anything painted across his face she always seemed too perceptive in noticing.

Sometimes, he thought she was secretly a telepath.

“You could’ve seriously hurt somebody, Rogue.”

Her face fell, as he had hoped, eyes dropping to her hands still kneading each other along her knees. But her head snapped up just as quick, eyes creased with anger, daring him to engage in the brawl she seemed to always be insinuating.

“My gosh, Logan, you don’t think I know that!?” she threw at him, hands no longer fidgeting, but now fists at her side.

Though branded as the first X-Man in line ready to throw a punch, regardless of the circumstances, Rogue had always been a close second. The rest of the team fell somewhere along 3rd and 5th place, while Hank and the Professor were somewhere down near the end.

_Kids. Always think they know it all. That adults think they’re incompetent. That they don’t know anything._

She wanted to be treated like she knew it all? _Fine._ “Than why d’you sneak onto the estate!? You have my number. You have the mansion’s number. All it takes is one call,” he threw back at her.

He watched her stumble, watched it clear across her face. “Yeah, and you would’ve hung up on me. Figured if I showed up in person, it’d be easier to convince you to let me back. Of course, if someone hadn’t put a block on my passcode at the gate, I wouldn’t have had to sneak in.”

There it was. She knew calling would’ve made sense. But calling was too definite. Calling meant the ball was in Logan’s court, and she knew too well he’d be popping the basketball and walking off the court. So now that she was getting called out on a foul, she had to lock him onto the court.

_If someone hadn’t put a block on my passcode at the gate._

He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if removing her was just another chore to check off on the list. “Didn’t see a reason in keeping it on there,” he replied.

She flinched, as he was hoping. The leisure in his voice, the causality of the situation of removing her, permanently, from the institute, was brutal.

But she bounced back quickly, face regaining composure. “How is she doing?”

He let a rush of air pour out his nose, eyes falling just south of the arm chair in the containment unit, as he thought back to this morning.

He had been on his way to her room, having overheard Kurt talking to Kitty on the phone about the previous night, and that he had seen Lorelei that morning and that she didn’t seem in much better shape, and Logan was on his way to put a stop to her last minute trip to Hell’s Kitchen.

He was confining her to the mansion, and removing her from the field, until further notice.

Even Logan had to admit he was impressed when her abilities went head to head with Rogue’s. He was starting to believe Forge’s Level 8 readings. But as incredible and limitless as her abilities appeared, when he turned back around from Rogue to see the state she was in in Kurt’s arms, flipped a switch somewhere inside him, and over his dead body would he let her leave his sight.

But when he got to her doorway, taking in the open balcony storm doors, the almost empty closet and the note on her bed, he knew she was already halfway by then to the city.

She wasn’t one to sit around and lick her wounds, healer or not.

“She was tired. A little too weak for my liking, but Hank cleared her yesterday.”

She ran a hand through her stray white bangs. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”

The X-Men leader glared over the young Southerner. “S’not me you need to apologize to.”

She gave a small nod to herself. “How did you recruit the Shadow Healer? From what I hear, it’s impossible to track her down, let alone catch her.”

Logan smirked to himself, thinking back to that night, painfully waking up on cold, wet pavement, suit soaked through to the bone, feeling completely drained and sore all over, with a pair of big grey eyes staring down at him, golden curls falling down towards his chest.

_It’s ok. Take it easy. The MRD injected you with something, I don’t know what. I just need you to stay still, while I try and drain it out of your system. Everything’s going to be ok. Just rest. I got you._

“She found me. Was being tailed by Mardies that tested a recalled cure on me. Probably wouldn’t be here right now if she hadn’t of stepped in,” he reminisced.

Rogue cursed beneath her breath. “So the rumors are true.”

He turned back up to the young woman with confusion. “What rumors?”

“The Hope Serum.”

“The hell is Hope Serum?”

“Some geneticist, Dr. Kavita Rao, created it. It was the result of one of her test trials fer the next Cure. Kelly bought some off her after just a few trials on dead mutants from MRD lock up, but they shelved it after their own live trials, after finding out it wasn’t much of a cure, then just some lethal bioweapon fer anyone with the X-Gene. Word on the street, though, someone on the MRD board is pushing it for field use for non-compliant mutants,” she explained, walking over to the glass as she spoke to the X-Men leader.

“Well, whoever they are, they’re doing more than just pushing. Shit nearly killed me,” he replied, running a hand over his neck as his body was ghosted with the all too familiar, painful spasms he had endured that night of the injection.

Rogue crossed her arms in thought as she let Logan’s story sink in. “They’re keeping the reports under wraps and making sure none of it reaches the media, but Domino got word from one of her old contacts up here that at least 40 have died so far.”

“40!? And no major outlet is getting this out there!?” Logan exclaimed.

But Rogue simply shrugged, as if injustice such as this was too commonplace to get riled up for. “We’re mutants, Logan. Everyone out there wants us dead anyway.”

The X-Men leader gave out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t good.

Everything was just piling up now; the Sentinel, Africa, the Hope Serum. And they had no idea was in play. They had caught a quick glimpse of the Kitty, Bobby and Kurt from the future, before the Professor was pulled back toward a commotion in his time. 

As much as Logan wanted his mentor to stay safe, where ever and whenever he was, neither timeline could afford these interrupted conversations. They all needed to sit down and figure out was wrong, what was going to become wrong, and fix it.

It was if she had been reading his mind. “Any word from the professor? Future looking bleak like always?” she quipped lightly.

He turned back up to look at her. And he almost voiced his thoughts. He almost voiced his frustrations when his eyes fell onto hers, and suddenly she was 16 years old again, running from a past of lies and Mystique, to a future of budding abilities and new roommates that seemed just as daunting.

She was the girl with purple eye shadow, black skirt and combat boots, that held no care for others’ company or opinions. The young girl who looked at the students of the institute, and their games of kickball, their family meals, their friendship, and went running for Logan. 

Hoping to find some solace, some companionship, in someone who understood her sense of independence and solitude.

He almost fell for it.

He raised his forearm up to rest on the glass wall between them, leaning in to glare back her. “Just cause you’re in the mansion, doesn’t mean you’re on the team. Can’t disclose that info with yah, Rogue. ‘S rules.”

She peered up at him skeptically. She always did. “Well _when_ can you disclose the info with me?”

He nodded to her partner-in-crime was still laying on the other twin bed, back to them. “When we’ve decided if we want you and the crazy Cajun sticking around.”

“Heard tat,” the second prisoner piped up.

“Was hoping,” Logan called back, watching as Gambit simply raised his left hand to flip him off.

Rogue turned back to him, big green eyes studying his. “When you guys voting on that?”

And suddenly he was back in one of the small med rooms just down the hall from where he was standing, sitting in a chair, looking at the same girl that stood before him as she lay weakly on a hospital bed, hand wrapped around hers.

_I won’t lie to you, kid. Getting over this ain’t gonna be easy. Somethin’ about…betrayal always sticks with yah. Trust me. You learn to deal with it. You move on. And you let your real friends be there for yah._

He sighed and turned to walk away. “Let yah know by tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves!
> 
> Sorry this took soooo long to post! This originally was a half of one chapter, but I decided to cut it in half so I could get this to you quicker. It was also already fairly long! :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy.


	13. Seeing Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except for my OC's. All rights belong to Disney Marvel Cinematic Universe and Marvel Comics.

“What I want to know is _where_ he refuels.”

He turned to her, mouth pursed at her with confusion. “ _Refuels_?

She nodded, resting her chin on her fingertips, cape slightly billowing in the night breeze as the two lay stretched out on the rooftop. “During his first attack at Coney Island, he said we interrupted his ‘pre-game fuel up.’ And then at Senator Kelly’s, he was draining my energy,” the Shadow Healer responded. "If he can take on a power source such as my heart, I'm curious where he normally frequents for energy to siphon."

Daredevil let that information sink in, while he let the midnight symphony of the city settle around him, ears picking out discrepancies. “Sounds like he stores energy more than conducts it. If that's the case, then its beyond me where he finds it,” he suggested.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Taxi services were slowing down, fluorescents were working overtime, and the usual street chatter had slightly subsided. The overlying silence amongst the cacophony of sound made him question aloud, “Are we sure he’s coming here _tonight_?”

She let out a sharp exhale of pastrami, mustard and Swiss breath that tickled his nose. “I think he’s got a list of people who, in one way or another, ultimately led to his mother’s preventable death, and he’s just checking them off. We’re here more for show, since your police friend was able to get her relocated. Hopefully talk him off the cliff’s he’s been dangling off of.”

Matt reflected back on their previous conversation in the office about the young mutant they were waiting for. “Do you think he would’ve killed the Senator and his wife if the X-Men hadn’t intervened?” he asked. He was slowly growing worried as the similarities between Alex Knight and Frank Castle were becoming more obvious; just a man on a mission, checking names off a list.

Obviously, the young Knight was miles from Castle’s headspace, what with every one of his assassination attempts thus having been thwarted. He hadn’t tasted blood by his own hand yet. But it was only a matter of time.

And then if the Punisher was anything to go by, there was no stopping the Red Knight after that.

The air shifted beside him as she shook her head. “I don’t _want_ to think so, but with the anger that was spilling out of that poor kid, I wouldn’t doubt if it he let his emotions get the best of him,” she answered.

That was where Matt Murdock had hoped a line was being drawn between the Punisher and the Red Knight. Alex Knight was still a young kid, who’s emotions got the better of him, like his anger. If he could be controlled by anger, it was also possible for him to be controlled by reason.

Frank Castle seemed to have lost much of his capacity for emotion lifetimes ago. A soldier on a mission didn’t often have time to reflect on feelings.

His conversation with Stick the first time he had suddenly appeared in town in search of the Black Sky was nagging incessantly at him.

_He’s just a kid._

Could the terms ‘soldier’, ‘hunter’ or even ‘The Red Knight’, be applied to a child?

Like Lorelei had said, the kid was devastatingly consumed by anger, acting with great immaturity and letting that anger control his actions. The last thing he needed were monikers and vigilante nicknames to fuel his ego. Too much power was toxic for an adult more adjusted with life, let alone a hormone-raging teenager.

 _But then what about Lorelei?_ He asked himself, shifting his senses to focus on the young woman beside him. _She was the same age as Alex, and yet here she was, bearing the weight of a title, a mask, and all their resulting responsibilities and requirements._

Why was giving Alex power worse than giving it to Lorelei? Because they were different people? Because Lorelei could be trusted with it and Alex couldn’t be?

She was still just a child, like Alex. She had dealt with heavy loss in her life, like Alex. She had been thrust upon unwillingly with extraordinary mutant powers, like Alex. She was fighting for what she believed in, like Alex.

She was still a young child, in his eyes, that needed to be worrying about Biology exams and Prom dresses and acne. Someone who needed to be gently taught and instructed with her powers, and someone who still needed to be around a strong support system, now that she was no longer homeless but still dealing with the trauma she had suffered all of those years ago.

A support system that would comfort and placate and celebrate her, and would hold her tight when she would wallow in emotions just as strong and powerful as Alex’s, and keep her from crossing that line.

But instead, she was lying next to him in a suit, cape and mask, a member of an elite mutant task force, a Level 8 mutant herself with powers she brutally and inhumanely stiffened and controlled, aiding a vigilante at 1 o’clock in the morning to put herself directly in harm’s way to stop another mutant, during her break off from school.

Yes, she could be trusted more than Alex with mutant powers.

The question is, why did she have to be entrusted with such great power in the first place?

Why did New York City’s Angel, the Shadow Healer, have to be a young girl?

Why couldn’t she just be another student at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters? She could grow up with a semi-normal life. A _safe,_ semi-normal life.

“Wait, I think I feel him in the air.”

He cocked an eyebrow beneath his mask. “And you say my abilities are weird,” he teased.

But just as the words left his mouth, he picked up a strange sound coming from the North direction. There was a downward thrust of impacted air and heat that collided with rooftops for a brief second, followed by the shifting and stretching of air to accommodate for a freefalling mass, only for the process to repeat all over again.

“I think I hear him coming, too,” he whispered to the Shadow Healer beside him.

He cocked his left ear upward, straining and focusing to catch more of the atmosphere around him, and the mass headed towards them.

“Last chance to back out of this one, Daredevil,” she whispered to him, his skin already prickling at the increase in heat her body was emitting. Her powers were gearing up.

He smirked, corners of his mouth pushing against the cowl, “And miss out on all the fun?”

“I’m serious, Matt. Mutants are in a whole different playing field than ninjas,” she said, knowing the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was deflecting the inevitable reality he had to face that he was out of her league. That all of the threats in his city weren’t ones of sole hand-to-hand combat. The ball game was shifting now.

Now there were powers and abilities that couldn’t be solely tracked with his 4 senses.

But he shook his head, from Irish stubbornness or Murdock resilience, he didn’t know. He wasn’t going to leave her. He didn’t the day she had stumbled into Fogwell’s all those years ago, cloaked in the smells of the city, hunger and fear, and he wasn’t going to now.

“You’re stuck with me, Shadow Healer,” he responded, tracking Alex as he neared their building.

There was a slight shift in the air beside him, a small mass cloaked in her familiar warmth stretching out to him. He smiled and returned the fist-bump.

“Alright. Then let’s do this,” she said, voice taking on a resolve and strength that sent goosebumps along his skin. He continued to stand by his earlier assessment that she would thrive as a military commander. You could only take a team so far into battle using just tactics and knowledge; conviction could bring a following all the way through enemy lines.

Daredevil and the Shadow Healer kept close to the rooftop, both tracking the young wayward mutant until his feet touched down just yards from them.

The Shadow Healer was quickly on her feet, stretching out a hand to encase Alex in a golden energy orb, Daredevil on alert, still crouched behind the ventilation shaft beside her.

“Stand down, Alex.”

The static teen turned so violently behind him, warring thoughts brutally interrupted if the lost look in his eyes was anything to go by, to glare at the Shadow Healer through her construct.

He screamed, fists clenched, “What!? Are you kidding!? Why have you been following me!?” his energy slamming out on its own accord against the golden orb, the Shadow Healer tempted to shake her head and reorient her red-clouded vision, from his anger or his energy, she couldn’t tell.

“Because I don’t want you hurting anyone, Alex. I know you’re a good kid,” she said, slowly taking a step towards him. “I don’t want you having the death of an innocent person on your conscious.”

The red dancing around him flared dangerously, licks of it seeping out through her construct to kiss her skin with barbed lips slick with poisonous revenge. She concentrated harder to keep her golden orb intact, the raw anger and energy boiling inside volatile and unrestrainable, no matter how unevenly matched the Level 3 and Level 8 Omega mutants were. Raw, uncontrolled energy always won out in the end, in destruction and death.

“Innocent!?! Kelly and Bensen killed my mom! They need to pay!” he screamed out to her, saliva exploding unhinged out into the cool night to burn to steam on contact with her construct, as his dark pupils danced viciously in place, vibrating with anger.

The Shadow Healer gently shook her head, hands out in a gentle, placating manner. “Shirley Bensen had nothing to do with your mother’s death. When your mom came in for a consultation, it’s the MRD branches of the hospital that would’ve dealt with your mother’s case. None of it would ever reach Shirley,” she relayed desperately, pleading with the young teenager to absorb her words for all their worth; a response to the white flag he didn’t even realize he was waving.

“But Kelly— “

“And Kelly…I’m not about to defend his innocence,” she interrupted, fighting to cut off his vengeful thoughts at their heads. “He hasn't much. But murdering lives to settle a score, that’s showing you’re no better than he is. And I know you are!”

His scream tore at her insides, but the crack in it also told her she was getting through to him. “You know nothing about me, Shadow Healer!”

_Oh, but didn’t she?_

It was like looking in a mirror of what could’ve been; the consequences of the road most taken, the easier one to traverse.

“But I _do_ know, Alex! You loved your family, I can tell!” she told him, the cold air scratching at her aching throat, words echoing in the December night. “And that you were wronged by the system, the system that wrongs thousands of good people every day. And you think revenge is going to balance the scale; their lives for your mother’s.”

Her vision continued to swim with the deepest of scarlets, anger overwhelming his mind, and his red burning around him. It flared out and pounded on her construct, both energy and emotions, at her observations. “I don’t _think_ , I _know_!” he screamed, she knew mostly to convince himself than her. He was breathing heavily, grey breath lost in the sea of red and gold. He added a little quieter but just as violently, “And I don’t need your prude, righteous ass giving me talks on a rooftop about morality! You had a hand in her death too!”

And he watched with smug satisfaction as the golden energy enclosing around him violently flickered, before returning stronger, betraying the stable resolve she kept on her face.

He got to her. Just like he had at the Senator’s house the night before.

He snorted to himself. _Leave it to a little hero to have a weakness as pathetic and predictable as her own realization that she couldn’t save everyone._

“Alex, look—“ she started, voice only slightly wavering, as her powers had seconds before.

 _No_.

 _He wasn’t done_.

He yelled, “Don’t deny it! You go out every night and just heal random people of your choosing! Some are worthy enough for you, and some aren’t! And my mother just didn’t fit the bill, did she?!”

She knew it wasn’t true. She could read his anger, knew his thought process was just jumping frantically from one idea to the next. That somewhere, deep, deep down inside, he really didn’t mean it.

But in the heat of the moment, their two energies colliding with such ferocity, generating a raging power all of its own, the Red Knight’s abilities electrifying the air around her, she let a few of her own emotions slip through the crack.

“That’s not what happens Alex! That’s not how my powers work!” she yelled desperately back.

_It wasn’t her fault._

_It wasn’t._

But Alex wouldn’t listen, couldn’t listen, with his own emotions occupying all the space he had in his mind. The words were barely out her mouth when he screamed back at her, “Shut up!”

But the words barely registered in her mind, all of her senses and abilities focused on the climax Alex’s powers were reaching as they continued to build inside of him. His body suddenly no longer able to vessel the energy.

The red was tangible now, pungent air lacing her taste buds. She could no longer distinguish the red energy generated by her empath abilities from the red seeping from Alex’s fingertips.

He was detonating.

“Shadow Healer!”

A force was barreling into her side and tackling her to the ground, just as the Red Knight lost all control, building power igniting a crackling field of energy that exploded out into the air, right where she had been standing.

She turned to see Daredevil picking himself up off of her, offering a hand. “Ugh, gotta…fix that name. Are you…good to fight?” she asked as he pulled her up.

He gave a sharp nod, chest and shoulders habitually tensing, preparing for a match in the ring. “I can sense his powers. I’ll be good.”

She gave a satisfied smile. “Perfect.”

Daredevil and the Shadow Healer turned together to the volatile mutant, Alex disoriented and teetering in his stance. New York’s vigilantes took the window of opportunity and charged at the teenager.

Daredevil pulled ahead, slanting slightly in his run to take the teenager from the right side, allowing him increased power behind his hook and a chance to get him further from the edge of the roof. Confident still in the young kid’s unstable breathing and jittery movements, Daredevil caught the back of his right foot on a vent, using his push-off force to carry him just a foot above the Red Knight, a well-placed hit to the head an efficient blow to take the threat out quickly.

However, in a fleeting moment of clarity, through blurred vision, Alex caught sight of the red mass on top of him, and instinctively formed his energy sword in his hands, swinging widely at the air around him.

The Shadow Healer’s golden shield was there in seconds, blocking the uncoordinated parrying from scratching Daredevil, who expecting her deflect, ducked to a crouch behind Alex and kicked the kid’s legs out from underneath him.

The Red Knight landed with a strangled cry on his back, the air knocked clean from his lungs. The Shadow Healer was immediately by his side, index and middle finger locked together, angled inches away from a protected nerve beneath muscle at the base of his skull, a precise and accurate jab that would put the young teenager out for a few hours.

But The Red Knight had tasted the energy of the Angel of New York; knew it now by flavor. And though his vision was still wavering, his senses could almost smell her power beside him, and he lashed out, a red energy blast sending the Shadow Healer soaring, Daredevil's ears catching the skittering of gravel as the young girl careened onto the roof.

He spared himself a brief second to let his senses take stock of his friend, deeming her hurt but alright, before charging after the young punk off to his left, who was already on shaking legs.

He could tell the kid was scared, could hear the trepid fear playing along his heartbeat like a drunk man slamming away on a drum set. It was the same song that played across the young child’s heart, the supposed Black Sky, that night with Stick. A kid braced with a destiny too large to rival that of their worst nightmares, with a world too eager to brand and quarter him.

Maybe it was that connection that had his senses so dull and ill-prepared to pick up on the subtle shift in the energy flowing around Alex from stable to unstable, from sure to unsure, from smoldering to explosive. Or maybe, when he would later look back on this moment, maybe it was the familiarity between the young kid’s heartbeat and Elektra’s, both so riddled with fear of the unknown. Elektra Natchios had always deeply intrigued him, her heart the most interesting thing he had ever listened to. That in times of expected fear and uncertainty, her pulse was striding with confidence, almost happy at the chaos ensuing around her.

But when he held her body, her breath shallowing, her blood escaping, he heard, for the first time since knowing her, true fear strangling her heart.

In the end, it didn’t matter who Alex reminded him of, why the young boy was pulling at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s heartstrings. Because though the pause was miniscule to the long night he had had, milliseconds in reality, they were enough for a plan to decimate, and for chaos to ensue.

“You ruined EVERYTHING!!”

“Daredevil!”

He heard it all and registered none of it.

Soon, the world around him was gone, a scream escaping his lips as his senses burned with an ember that far surpassed the flames that painted his world on fire. He heard Lorelei scream, a muffled

“NO!”

to his ears. And then nothing.

 

* * *

 

The world came back to her one piece at a time.

First, her face, and the sharp gravel that poked and pulled at the left side of her head edges drawing a warm trail of blood sticking to her hair.

Second came her sore body, muscles screeching in agony, aching in areas even Matt’s hardest days of training could never reach.

Third, came the ringing.

The one that coated her ears like white noise and muffled out the intricacies of the world around her. It stung and pierced her ear, though she felt no pain. It was like a cotton swab she couldn’t pull out.

Everything slowly fell into place after, vision falling almost last to the pain and aches, and when it did, it was blurry and white-washed, colors dotting her vision beating in tandem with her rapid pulse.

The world felt fuzzy and sharp all at once, stomach and sight swimming, as habit more than need pulled her body into a sitting position.

The world felt empty, as if something big, something that took up an immense amount of space, had just vanished. There was a gaping hole in the ulterior atmosphere where her reading abilities lay, a vacuum of space. But she couldn’t, for the life of her, place _what_ was missing. 

She let her hands glide over the gravel beneath her, mind floating blearily through the fog, until they bumped into something solid. She peered to her left, and found her fingers tracing over a patch of dark red leather, stretched tight over a shape.

She stared, detached, at it for a while, struggling to piece coherent thoughts together.

_Was this hers?_

She smiled to herself. _Of course it wasn’t hers. When would her mother ever let her own red leather?_ _Especially faux leather. If her mother ever owned leather, it had to be authentic. The death of an animal was required._

Her mind blanked for a few minutes, before thought came rearing back with nauseating speed.

_If it wasn’t hers, whose was it?_

So she followed the small patch of red to more red, and some black, and then a blotch of spotted ivory.

_Skin._

A chin. So there were eyes.

But when her eyes traveled to where they should have been, two red plastic circles glared back at her.

_Wait._

And with the force of a wrecking ball, everything came back into startling clarity, as she quickly began scanning the roof, a mixture of emotions settling her stomach as she spotted Alex’s signature red faintly glowing off in the distance. 

He would have to wait. 

And then she was scrambling closer to the vigilante.

“Matt? Matt!”

Her fingers fumbled like logs along the underside of his chin, searching for the straps to undo his helmet, all the while tugging at her abilities, waiting impatiently for them to start telling her what was wrong with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Finally, the red fiber mask was off, revealing his pale face and dark stubble, eyes shut.

But she was seeing nothing else; no smooth muscle, no bones, no veins or arteries, no organs, not even his brain. She gave a knock to her head as if that would restart her powers, only regretting it when sharp pain blazed along her skull.

Why weren’t her powers working?

She squinted her eyes and strained her concentration, but nothing. Just more headaches.

What was she going to do?

She didn’t know what was wrong with Matt, why his eyes weren’t open, why he wasn’t standing up looking around, as dazed and confused about what had just happened as she was.

Her heart stuttered with fear, frightened by the daunting feeling of nakedness and inadequacy without her powers.

_Snap outta it, Pidge._

She snapped her head, eyes wide as they searched for the noise.

 _Dear God, not the hallucinations again_.

She could only deal with one problem at a time.

_Remember what I taught yah. Empty the mind, tighten the grip, fill the skates._

She inhaled and let out a shaky breath. The voice, _his_ voice was right. She could do this. Matt needed her to do this.

And then she could figure out why she was hearing Kevin’s voice.

She jammed two fingers under his jawline, and immediately relaxed when a steady pulse thrummed underneath his skin. Next, she delicately worked her fingers underneath and along the sides of his head, feeling no divots, areas of swelling, shifting or bleeding.

Steady pulse and no head injuries.

He could be easily suffering from something else, but she needed to get him out of the open and out of his outfit which was inconveniently the color of blood and too thick to check for broken bones. She splayed out her hand, picturing the psychic projection she had used carrying Kurt back from the Kelly’s just the other night, and began preparing her powers to conceal the two of them with light manipulation, when she suddenly realized the gravel was still digging into her knees.

Looking down confirmed she was still kneeling on the roof, with Matt splayed out beside her.

_What the heck?_

She peered down at her hand, and then began inspecting the rest of her body when she failed to find her usually golden energy. She went back to her hand and gave it an experimental shake, twisting her fingers about, like a glow stick that needed a little more man-handling.

But nothing happened.

She peered down at her chest. “Right now? Do you have to hiccup right now?” she asked.

It didn’t make sense. Why now? From what? Even when Rogue and Alex had been sucking her dry, her powers wasted no time in snapping right back to kick butt and take names. It always did.

No matter what had been thrown up against her, no matter the mutant, no matter the threat, her heart was an unceasing source of power. But right now, something was off. The power was there, but somewhere in between lay faulty wiring, a severed connection.

“Well, _fantastic_.”

What was she supposed to do? She needed to get Matt out of the suit and into something a little warmer, and she would never hear the end of it if Daredevil found out she had stripped him down to his boxers right there on top of an apartment building.

She needed to get him back to his apartment.

But as fulfilling as Logan’s workout regiments was proving to be, she was not about to attempt to carry 187 pounds of dead weight 7 blocks.

So she needed to hitch a ride. _They_ needed to hitch a ride.

But no matter which option she chose-bus, subway, taxi-they all required her to carry an unconscious, grown man some distance, which would raise too much attention.

She needed help.

And the first and only option that came to mind made her swear. She really didn’t want to. Matt was already having a rough night. She didn’t need to make it worse. Unfortunately, every other alternative she was coming to fell short in some way.

She sighed again.

_The things you do for friends._

She undid a hidden zipper along the upper thigh of the Daredevil suit and pulled out the burner phone she knew he stashed there.

Fortunately for her, it wasn’t set up like his normal cell, which she still had trouble working with sometimes. Unfortunately, however, all of his contacts were listed as different numbers, ranging from single to double digits, the names to which she did not know. He did it for security purposes, so that if he or his suit ever fell into the wrong hands, and they were able to get through the passcode he set up upon opening the flip phone, contacts and associates would be harder to trace back.

However, in emergency purposes like this, she wished she knew who was which number. As she scrolled down the list, trying to spot some type of pattern, she was briefly filled with a sense of joy upon seeing the long list of contacts in Matt’s burner phone, hoping they were people he could actually trust, rather than the numbers of street thugs he kept for information purposes.

She needed someone Matt _knew_. Someone who could help her in that moment.

She finally stumbled upon a contact by the name of _1_.

1 meant important, right? That they were at the top of the list, for the right reasons.

She sent up a quick prayer that she wasn’t calling a crime lord, or even worse, his old mentor Stick, and pressed the call button.

She hesitantly placed it to her ear and almost jumped when the other end picked up after the first ring, but became instantly nervous when she was met with silence. If the other person wanted confirmation they were talking to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, she was not about to go into Matt’s Bale-Batman voice.

“Hello?” she asked hesitantly.

“Who is this?”

Lorelei’s heart leapt with relief in her chest. “Foggy! Oh my gosh Foggy, thank God!”

He asked with hardened trepidation. “I’m asking again, _who is this_?”

Ok, Foggy. As in I-now-know-about-Matt’s-night-job-but-not-everyone-else’s-night-job Foggy Nelson. She needed to play this out right.

“It’s Lorelei,” she with feigned confusion.

She could hear his breath loosen in his chest a little over the line, only to be replaced with deep worry. “Lorelei!? What’s wrong? Why are you calling on Matt’s phone? Where’s Matt?”

She noted how he just said phone. Not _the burner phone._ Not _Daredevil’s landline._ Not _the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen flip phone._

She sniffled and started cutting words and sentences with short breaths, sounding more like a civilian who stumbled upon the vigilante. “He’s hurt, Foggy. I don’t know what to do! Daredevil saved me from this guy and then he-he chased them up to some roof top, and-and he-he got hurt. Oh my gosh, he took off the mask. And its Matt, Foggy! Matt’s Daredevil! But he’s in really bad shape! I didn’t know what to do…”

She let her voice trail out towards the end, as if fear was just now settling in. She had to give herself some credit. She was doing a pretty bang up job for someone who couldn’t lie to save her life. Maybe she should think about looking to join the Dram Club instead, and leave basketball alone.

Foggy went straight into commander mode, a mother prepared to get down to business. “Ok, I need you to stay on the line, Lorelei. I’m gonna hang up quick and call a nurse Matt knows and have her meet us at his apartment. I’m going to call right back, and then you need to tell me where you are. Give me your best description, if you don’t specifically know where. So while I’m on the phone with the nurse, try and gauge where you are. Sound good?”

She was stupefied by the authority Foggy Nelson had just suddenly taken on, and her next words were actually stunned. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“Good, I’m going to hang up quick. I’ll be right back,” he replied quickly, before hanging up.

She turned back down to the still unconscious vigilante beside her, and began rubbing circles along his arm. “Ok, help’s on the way, Matty,” she reassured, as if he could hear her.

She was contemplating just how many times Foggy had prepared for a situation like this, analyzing how quick and efficiently he had not only reassured her, but calmly explained what he was going to do, when the phone rang again.

“That…that was quick,” she answered, smacking herself for not even checking to make sure it was Foggy calling back.

“Yeah. Poor woman’s always on call for superheroes. Alright, did you figure out where you are?” he asked.

 _Ok, Lorelei. You’ve just experienced a traumatic event. You scared, out of breath, and worried about your friend. And action!_ “We’re on top of the building on the corner of West 50th and 11th avenue,” she relayed.

“Awesome. Perfect. I’m on my way to Karen’s to borrow her car. Just hang tight. Ok?”

She nodded, and then remembered she was talking to him over the phone.

“Ok. Thanks Foggy,” she replied.

She could almost see his strained, comforting smile. “You got it. Be there in 10.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rain continued to pour in Downtown Fresno, Idaho, the temperature just barely grazing over the freezing point to keep the wet streets from turning white with snow. The cloudy atmosphere made the 5 o’clock evening sky look like its midnight counterpart, adding to the soporific effect the rain seemed to have on the small town.

The streets were still somewhat busy from the late rush hour home from work, while the sidewalks were deserted, save for a large, hooded figure making their way down East Swift Avenue.

He seemed rather out of place, his dark complexion rare around the area, along with his dark attire, hood up, cap tilted down and sunglasses perched high on his nose. Everything about him seemed so out of place in Fresno, even his confident posture and the sure stride he had, hands clasped perfectly in his pockets, with a brown bag hanging from his left wrist.

As out of place as he may have looked, there was something about him that seemed so natural, that he seemed to blend in with environment. He was a part of the downcast apparatus, as if he was a part of the dark red brick, the cracked sidewalks and chipping paint, his presence calling no traveling eyes.

The stranger made his way down E Swift, stopping just short of the end of the avenue and the next 4-way intersection, before turning right, and into the Motel 6. He gave the young attendee behind the desk a courtesy nod, though it was doubtful the young man could even register an 18-wheeler’s horn from right outside, ears hidden behind large ear phones, eyes closed with content.

The stranger made his way up the dark wooden steps, winding his way up the 3 floors, avoiding the old elevator system altogether. 

He reached the top, eyes beneath the dark Ray Bans giving a natural, cursory glance of the shadowed hallway, ears listening for the noise of the apartments around him, clearly tensing.

He didn’t like apartment buildings. He didn’t like the idea of so many people in one place, yet not together. It was nerving to understand just because you didn’t have eyes on someone, didn’t at all mean they didn’t have eyes on you. It was too cornering.

He especially didn’t like it given the fact that there was a refurbished, 2 story Victorian nestled deep in the mountains, miles from the closest road, that he was supposed to be in. But the continual succession of rainy days had eventually made it to even their outskirts of town, flooding their basement with over 3 feet of water, damaging sensitive and secretive wiring.

So the specialist’s number on the fridge had been contacted, and the stranger and his companions had to make themselves scarce for the day. He also reminded himself that he would have to eventually call the actual owner of the house to keep them abreast.

He stopped outside of Room 323, haven deemed the hallway clear, and gave an elaborate pattern of knocks on the door, before fishing the door card out of his pocket and slipping inside just as the light above the knob turned green.

He entered into the large apartment’s common area, the room’s two sofa chairs and love seat circled tightly around the round kitchen table, pulled from the dining area. Beneath the seating roved feet of black wiring, snaking into every available outlet, two faces illuminated by their respective screens regarding him as he came in and heavily plopped himself down in the love seat.

Reaching into his brown bag, he fished out a large package, white paper stained orange and slick with oil.

He reached across the table. “One Philly Cheese Steak,” he announced.

The other male in the room clapped his hands excitedly together and snatched the sandwich from his hand. “Aw, hell yes. I’m starving,” he said, wasting no time in shredding the wrapping and diving in the sub.

It wasn’t until 3, large bites had been chewed and swallowed before he finally broke eye contact with his meal and looked back over, nodding his head as the other man began methodically unwrapping his sub. “Whad’yah get?” he asked.

The other man eyed his sub with slight affection before responding, “Portobello Sausage Bomb.”

The man nodded his approval before taking another large bite of his Philly Cheese Steak, looking up as the woman in the room returned to the table with a pomegranate balanced on top of a steaming container of stir-fry in one hand, with a chilled German beer in her other.

With a full mouth, the man gestured to her incredulously. “How come you never get anything?” he asked.

She gave a small smirk as she took a steady sip from the beer. “Because I’m not a fan of 20 liters of grease wrapped in a starch white loaf of bread,” she replied wittingly, nodding to the slick sandwich and the man’s already drench fingers.

The man cocked his head playfully and smiled. “Jealous much? Green’s not a nice color on you Agent Hill,” he replied.

The former top SHIELD agent gave half-ample glare to the former Rescue Paratrooper. 

The newly denounced Director of SHIELD took stock of the two, and the papers strewn about their work areas, before swallowing a bite of his Sausage Bomb and asking “So, do we think she’s legit?”

Maria Hill and Sam Wilson turned to Nick Fury, both silently nodding their heads before giving quick glance overs their work to surmise for their leader.  

“We’ve had undercover field agents keeping tabs on her since back in ’08, when her first public display of her powers was reported by a deli-market employee to the local authorities of a young, glowing girl shooting balls of golden energy all over the place,” Hill explained, opening two manila folders turned towards Nick and Sam, one filled top to bottom with blurred surveillance photos of the vigilante in question, most just a blur of light against a night cityscape, the second holding field notes, Sam noting at a closer look most were vague suspicions of locations and healed patients.

Falcon turned beside him to the one-eyed spy. “You ordered this?”

Nick Fury didn’t even turn as he answered Sam, eyes wandering across the stack of field notes meticulously, as if seeing them for the first time. “We keep eyes on all people of special interest. Some people have more eyes on them than others. She was higher on our watch list.”

Sam crossed his arms in contemplation. “Why? Because someone saw her?”

“Because of the thermonuclear scans we conducted of her,” Maria answers, sliding another folder towards Sam, the former paramedic taking glossed charts and readings in his hands and reading the results as Maria continued, “Though her body appears physically whole and stable, the energy readings we picked up running through her body were matching those of recent NASA observations of supernovas.

Sam let out a whistle. “Damn.”

The former director turned to look at his most trusted former agent. “Does she still have control?”

Maria nodded. “My ground team reported very few instances where she ever used this side of her abilities. It’s only recently she’s been showcasing them on the streets, predominantly because of her new involvement with the X-Men.”

Sam’s eyes perked with interest. “Wait, she’s an X-Men? She’s a mutant?” he asked. He was still trying to play catch-up. There had only been bits of cryptic nods and mumbled words of the girl who’s ‘files’ he was holding, between the SHIELD employees. Of course, shame on him for assuming the spies wouldn’t handle information with the utmost delicacy. 

Nick Fury nodded. “More precisely, a Level 8 Omega mutant.”

Sam looked expectantly between the two for further explanation. He sighed when they said nothing. “Ok, and that means what, exactly?”

“Mutants are categorized based on the Biomutative Classification System, otherwise known as the Mutant Power Classification System. It ranks mutants according to their level of power, and their level of mastery over said abilities, Level 1 being the lowest, all the way to Level 8. One of the earlier, rudimentary classification systems grouped mutants into one of 3 categories, Alpha, Beta or Omega. However, as our knowledge of the mutant species continued, the classifications had to be expanded in order to encapsulate all possible abilities. The Omega classification was kept however, because it was the best way for us to group mutants who exceeded Level 8 standards,” Hill explained, intermittently snacking on her pomegranate.

Fury swallowed a rather large bite of his sandwich before cutting in after his former agent. “Omega mutants are those whose powers have unlimited potential, with no possible, foreseeable limits. Very few fall into this category. Most that do are just rumors at the moment. She’s the only one we’ve been able to track down and study.”

Sam’s eyes widened with that information, tilting head and eyes with a sudden burst of inquisition. “So what you’re saying is that this girl is probably the most powerful gifted person on Earth, at the moment, and all she’s been doing for the past 6 years is _healing_ people?”

Fury snorted, leisurely crossing arms and leaning comfortably back in his chair. “I’m not complaining. Hate to see the mess she’ll leave behind after a fire fight.”

Hill gave a heavy shrug. “Most mutants of her caliber that aren’t taught how to control their abilities usually end up finding crude and brutal means of simply suppressing their abilities.”

Sam gave a contemplative sigh and leaned back in the sofa chair, staring at the field notes as he let information settle and sift. He gestured to the files before the trio before voicing what was truly going through his mind. “As cool as this all is, it’s not the main concern. If the Avengers were looking for another heavy hitter, she’d be added to a list and contacted. But what Steve needs, what _Bucky_ needs right now, is a healer. Can we confirm she can do what we need her to do?”

Maria gave a small tilt of her head as her mouth set in a straight line. “If there’s anything more elusive that the Shadow Healer, herself, it’s her healing abilities,” she admitted, pulling over her laptop and turning it for the other two to see. “My ground teams have hundreds of files and sheet work collected on the supposed patients she’s healed, but at that time it was mostly just speculation. So, we started graphing and triangulating her common routes and locations of previous patients. We then started tagging people who were suffering from some form of physical ailment, people who were on the lower end of the financial class spectrum and mutants, since she tended to gravitate towards those particular patients.”

Nick leaned back and let his legs stretch out beneath the table, arms slipping around to cross his chest. “People who couldn’t afford healthcare and mutants who were mostly banned from it. Got a’ say, I’m starting to really like this girl,” he surmised.

“And the results?” Sam asked.

Maria typed in a few commands to her computer, bringing up scans of written documents, stamped in red at the bottom with words like **Classified** , **Do Not Read** , **Level 6** , and **Proprietary Knowledge**. “Ground teams have recorded observations of patients over the course of 3 weeks, before and after their supposed encounter with the Shadow Healer. People tend to like to brag about being healed by her,” Hill explained. “They experience a 100% recovery. Paraplegics can walk, the blind had restored vision, burn victims have clear skin, cancer patients have 100% remission, sick children are cured of their disease, the list just goes on and on. We’ve recorded over 5,000 healed patients over the last 3 years. And those are just the ones we know about. We estimate the actual total ranges somewhere in the 40,000s.”

Sam let out a whistle. “Damn.”

Maria nodded. “She can just about heal anybody with anything.”

“So then what happened tonight? Your team’s intel makes it look like we’re dealing with some kid who doesn’t know how to use her powers,” Sam asked, pointing to his computer where the paused feed from the Shadow Healer and Daredevil’s team up was still up. “Daredevil was clearly injured, and instead of whipping up her special healing magic, she calls an untraceable burner phone for help. That doesn’t support the whole _she can just about heal anybody with anything_ scenario.”

He wasn’t trying to throw the former SHIELD agent’s words back at her, but they were running out of people gifted or talented enough to help Bucky regain some semblance of mind. They were all desperate, it was easy to see. But the former Para rescuer needed to make sure the former spies weren’t grappling at options and running with them. This situation needed to be handled with the utmost care and delicacy. They were dealing with the tortured, hard-wired brain of the one of the world’s deadliest assassins. 

Maria paused, finding difficulty in accepting the truth of the matter. “I’m not sure. Previous high intensity situations have never seemed to deplete her of energy, so it wasn’t out of exhaustion,” she offered.

Nick nodded, thinking back to when he had first started a file on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. “The field notes we’ve kept on Daredevil show no possible abilities that would render her incapable of using her own.”

Sam nodded, taking info as it came to him and started crossing things off of his mental list. “Do we know what was wrong with Daredevil, or even what kind of damage the Red Knight’s powers are capable of inflicting?

Maria shook her head, sighing once again that night at the unsettling feeling of missing information. “No on both counts. My team was too far away for a clearer visual, and the Red Knight is a relatively new player. Our intel on him is minimal and not confirmed,” she replied, bringing up a single sheet of notes regarding the Red Knight on her computer, its content in total filling a fourth of the page.

Sam nodded to the stilled video. “He doesn’t look like he was in direct line of the hit,” he reasoned, drilled medical evacuation and rescue lessons skimming across his mind. “Meaning he hurt himself in the aftershock. Concussion, possibly. Other forms of brain trauma. Hearing loss.”

Nick turned, narrowed eyes scrutinizing Falcon. _What was he getting at?_ “So?”

“ _So_ , if these are things the Shadow Healer _can’t_ heal, we need to put her file aside and start looking elsewhere for someone who can help us,” Sam said, looking longingly at his half-eaten sub as he spoke. It was already getting cold, previously warm cheese and grease solidifying.

The former head of SHIELD turned to his former agent. “Do you have specific reports of her capabilities regarding head injuries or brain trauma?”

Maria noticeably perked at the prospect of solid information she could provide for her team. “Yes. Concussions she can handle with a breeze. Deeper than that, neurological wise, our intel’s slim, but we have reports of her healing multiple patients we’ve diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.”

“So she can work with the brain?” Sam asked.

Her head dipped back and forth. “With physical ailments, yes. Neurological, maybe.”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t want to be healed,” he suggested.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Fury. “That seems a little ridiculous.”

Nick shrugged leisurely again. “Daredevil’s not gifted. He’s just a regular Joe-Shmo. So are the criminals he takes on. He’s never dealt with powered people before. He might’ve offered his assistance, but being magically healed by superpowers might’ve been too much for him. I know I would’ve freaked out a bit.”

A breath of silence followed as minds grappled with Fury’s comment, no one considering that it may not have been the fault of the mutant of interest. Sam, however, knew it was just a possibility among hundreds. And before his Captain made it to the currently flooded rendezvous point, and before Romanoff and Barton tracked down Barnes once the archer was safely extracted from his mission, he needed the hundreds of possibilities to disappear, and leave one solid shred of fact in its wake. He didn’t like this new idea of dealing with unfamiliar powered people, for the only reason of adding to many new variables to the equation. “Or she may not be the Omega you guys are making her out to be, and maybe she does have limitations to her abilities, where ever Daredevil falls into them. Like you said, this girl is nothing but speculation,” Sam concluded.

Nick studied the Para rescuer beside him for a moment before his chest compressed under the release of a sigh, and tired eyes turned to Hill. “Can your ground teams confirm anything more?”

She half-heartedly shook her head. “No. We took the calculated radius of the Red Knight’s energy blasts and worked them into our ground positions. We were too far away for any clear audio. We’re lucky we got the visual we did.”

Silence fell over the apartment, the only sound the echoing gentle patter of the warm winter rain tapping against the window beside them. The unwelcomed truth hung stagnant in the air, that this mutant, as incredible as she was, may not be the one for the job, making their list of options almost disappear.

The former head of SHIELD finally spoke up. “The only question we need to be able to answer before Rogers gets here, and before we find Barnes, is do we think she’ll be able to get the job done?”

“I think so.”

Both former SHIELD employees turned with wide curiosity to Rogers’s new recruit.

“Weren’t you the one that was just scruntinizing her?” Fury asked.

Sam nodded. “Yes, to confirm that she has limitations. If she was as _awesomely powerful_ ,” he explained fingers dancing comically at the turn of phrase, “as the city has been describing her to be, I don’t think she would be privy enough to the delicate situation we’re dealing with. I would place my life faster in the hands of someone that would try with sincerity than accomplish with adequacy.”

Fury nodded with Sam’s reasoning, turning next to Maria.

“Agent Hill?”

She looked between them both before answering. “I’d like to gather just a little more intel on the specifics of her healing capabilities, gauge her wheelhouse, before totally casting in my vote, but yeah, I’m leaning toward Wilson’s verdict right now,” she said, nodding over to Sam. “All of our searches have turned up candidates who don’t even come close to her level of capabilities. If they do, they aren’t as accessible as she is. She’s good and we know where to find her.”

 

* * *

 

The door swung open, well-worn doorknob cracking loudly into the wall beside it, echoing across the darkened apartment. Bodies rushed in, uneven footsteps shuffling and staggering along the floor, hazy light from the outside neon billboard dancing along heads and shoulders. The door was slammed shut.

A dull thud ricocheted against aging brick walls, followed by a string of gritted explicit. “Dammit, Murdock. You and your stupid dark bat cave!”

There was a brief pause. “Lorelei, can you grab the lights? There’s a switch to the right of you beside the cabinets.”

Another brief pause. A dull click and then the apartment came into startling clarity. Behind the small arm chair closest to the door stood Claire Temple, clad in faded blue jeans, a grey zip-up falling slightly from her shoulders. Her dark hair was pulled into a less than neat bun, her ragged breath plowing at loose strands as she shifted the dead weight of an unconscious Daredevil, slick blood and sweat along the suit gleaming in the lights above.

Supporting the vigilante on his left was Foggy Nelson, significantly more out of breath than the former Metro General nurse, shaggy blonde hair sticking to the sides of his face. He brought a hand up to his face, guarding eyes still sluggishly adjusting to the sudden change in lighting, revealing a large sweat stain circling underneath the arm of a crinkled white dress shirt, red tie loosened around the neck and sleeves rolled hastily up.

While Claire instinctively took stock of the patient beside her, everyone catching a quick breath before delving into the chaotic night that lay before them, Foggy shifted his gaze from his old friend to the light switch along the kitchen wall, where he found Nelson and Murdock’s latest (only) intern, clad in the rumpled blouse, skirt and coat she had had on at the office that day, blonde curls hanging loose around her face.

But as he deftly followed Claire’s lead, slipping out from underneath the unmasked vigilante’s left arm and slowly lowering him to the carpet, his eyes caught the subtleties of the lingering touch of the noble crusade against Hell’s Kitchen street crime spotting the young teenager.

He inwardly cursed himself and his unconscious friend, along with Wilson Fisk and every other street thug he would never know the names of, for now knowing the tell-tale signs of a civilian masquerading the bleeding heart of a vigilante underneath.

She was leaning heavily against the wall, still trying to catch a breath she just couldn’t seem to find, though she hadn’t been the one wrangling a dead, 180-pound ass up 7 flights of stairs. Her left arm was clamped rigidly to her side, her right hand holding tight to her chest. The right thigh of her tights was slick was something thicker than sweat, right foot gingerly hanging onto the floor.

Strikingly vivid grey irises came up to meet his just as a voice beside him pierced his inner monologue. “Earth to Foggy! I need those towels and water like yesterday!”

Her turned back down to the ground, where the Night Nurse was on her knees beside his friend, a penlight clasped by her front teeth as expert hands wove their way along his head.

He nodded. “Right. Towels and water,” he spoke aloud to himself, swiftly shuffling to the bathroom, coming back out with a bundle of clean towels and an empty shampoo bottle full of water, only to hear that Claire was now as suspicious as he was or just simply psychic. He didn’t doubt the latter. “Lorelei, come over here and sit down on the couch before you collapse.”

Foggy took one last look down at the young Murdock, came to the simple yet unprofessional conclusion that he wasn’t in a life or death situation, and turned to look up at the still incoherent teenager with a large smile on his face.

He walked over to her with arms outstretched, palms up as if placating to a slightly hostile dog. “I know you’re young, so I don’t know if you’ve been taught how to walk yet but it’s real easy. I promise. It’s just one foot in front of the other,” he relied, voice laced with exaggerated pitches used often with babies, as he placed both hands on the trembling kid and slowly guided her to the couch. He was certain he heard a snort from Claire.

He honestly just didn’t know how to deal with this situation. The Matt side of the equation was easy. Well, it was easy with Claire.

The speechless high schooler sitting on his best friend’s couch who now knew said best friend was Hell Kitchen’s famous vigilante was another matter.

He was livid when Matt finally told him, angry not only over his new nighttime hobby, but angrier still that he had kept it from him for so long.

But now standing there, like a deer caught in the headlights, he had no idea where to even begin. The words he thought were there on reserve if this situation ever needed explaining were gone on vacation, and he was left with a stutter that just kept producing vowel sounds.

God bless Claire for being the mature one in the situation, because neither Matt nor Foggy were any help in that department. 

Without even looking up from working the zipper along the back of Matt’s suit, she asked, “How did you find Matt, Lorelei? Foggy really didn’t fill me in much. And Foggy, can you grab a few glasses of water?”

He nodded obediently, grateful for the command, and retreated toward the kitchen, ear inclined to catch the response.

But the intern froze, eyes wide on the Night Nurse who was still too immersed in her patient to notice.

But Foggy noticed. And apparently so did the unconscious.

Because it was then that the Devil began to stir, the slit of his eyes opening slightly, blank stare more uncoordinated than usual, but head tilting as it did to take in the situation around him. “Lor…” he muttered.

Claire already had steady hands on his shoulders, keeping him anchored to the ground, spewing practiced warnings of possible head trauma and unknown internal injuries, along with threats of inflicting further bodily damage if he didn’t stay put. Lorelei was soon on her knees beside Daredevil, hands clasping around his, whispering assurances that she was fine.

But all of it fell deftly to his ears, his eyes completely focused on their _supposed_ new intern.

Yeah, that’s right.

_Supposed._

He was throwing that word around now.

Because if there was anything he was good at as a lawyer, it was taking the small details and painting a bigger picture; guilty or innocent.

_Lor._

Not Lorelei. Not Ms. Howlett. Not even random-girl-who-showed-up-at-our-doorstep-literally-out-of-nowhere.

_Lor._

It wasn’t dragged and muddled at the end, if the exhaustion Matt should be feeling kicking around ninjas at 2 in the morning was settling in his body.

It was clipped. Steady. Sure.

_Lor._

Like a nickname. But not one you told the teacher at the beginning of the year to call you. This was shortened out of endearment. Familiarity. Companionship. You could even hear it in his voice. It was out of a concern forged so much deeper than that of an intern and a boss.  

So how was Matthew Murdock suddenly on friendly terms with their intern after only one day of work? Well, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, there’s only one slice of provable evidence here.

Matthew Murdock lied.

Again.

It took every fiber of his being to keep his foot from swinging out and knocking the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen upon his already, probably, cracked skull. “Alright, the two of you. _Spill_.”

Everyone paused, Foggy’s clipped and steely tone slicing right through everyone’s ears. All three pairs of eyes were trained on him, interestingly the silvery blue ones and the slightly off kilter ones widening slightly in realization.

The jig was up.

Matt started. “Foggy— “

But his friend cut him off with a terse shake of his head and a raised hand. “No, no. Don’t you ‘ _Foggy_ ’ me. I’m not an idiot. How do you two know each other?” he demanded.

Looking with disbelief between the two legal partners and their interns, Claire threw up her hands in exasperation and leaned back on her heels. “Can we _not_ do this now!? If you wanna wring Matt out, can you wait until I make sure you won’t be wringing out a corpse!?”

Lorelei slightly shook her head. “He’s fine. Alex’s power overwhelmed his senses for a little bit, but its waning.”

Claire and Foggy turned to the high schooler, heads and eyebrows cocked in total confusion, while Matt seemed to continue on with her tangent, relaxing his posture and looking slightly over in her direction. “Is that what happened? How did he know?”

She shook her. “He didn’t. He must’ve just recently absorbed energy and was still trying to contain it. He was just overloading the air around us with excess his body couldn’t redirect,” she explained.

Claire cocked her arms in an exasperated show of confusion, hands slapping hard on her thighs, while Foggy furiously shook his hand and reached out his arms as if trying to manually stop the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what!?” she asked.

Foggy was a tad more annoyed. “Stop the bat shit crazy train!” He turned back to the intern and pointed a wary finger at her.

“Who _are_ you!?” he exclaimed.

The woozy Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was already slowly creeping his back into a hunched sitting position, Claire immediately dropping her exasperation to place a steadying hand on his shoulder, the vigilante taking a few agonizing seconds to catch his breath before looking up in his friend’s general direction.

“Foggy— “ he tried, voice failing him as his lungs begged for more breath to quench the storm of feathers in his head.

There was a slight pause as the supposed intern spoke, placing a hand on Murdock’s arm. “No, it’s ok Matt,” she replied.

Daredevil’s pale and clammy hand covered hers and a response was given low, “You don’t have to do this.”

 _You don’t have to give up your identity,_ was the silent plea.

But looking back at Claire and Foggy, two people that had stumbled half coherent out of sleep to help their friend, deserved the truth.

Her aura reading abilities were still sputtering back into functionality, but she didn’t need them to see the strain between the two law partners. The see the strength it took Foggy Nelson to not simply slap his best friend and walk out the door into the night, blessed with the simplistic realities of a civilian, but spoiled with a loosened grasp on the true horrors and sacrifices made by his old friend before him, or any other hero taking up the fight.

Their rift could not bear another secret, another lie between them.

She did not like giving out her identity. She was still trying to grasp the fact that there was a congregation of about 12 mutants that knew much more than just her secret identity.

But friendship and family were a rare and fleeting blessing for vigilantes and heroes, she of all people knew.

And she couldn’t stomach seeing Matt loose his only grounding force.

She gave Matt’s arm a tentative squeeze in a reassurance, “If you trust them, then so do I.”

Franklin Nelson and Claire Temple could not have looked more stupefied in that moment, watching with stuttered consonants as the intern slowly leveled her body to a standing positioning, her climb from the floor igniting a gust of golden energy swirling around her head. It spiraled its way down to her body, leaving an entirely different character in its wake.

By the time the high-schooler was flat on her feet, a new being was drawn in her absence, a confident figure with a moving presence, dark suit and mask a stark contrast to the billowing blonde curls and the dainty, golden outline of energy encasing her body.

The room continued to hold its breath, all eyes and ears trained now to the second vigilante in the room.

That is, until Foggy found his voice.

“No. Way.”

And Matt couldn’t help but smile and snort with amusement and relief, content at the excited thrum of his friend’s heart, and the clear glee in his voice.

The Shadow Healer gave a tight smile and small wave to Claire and Foggy, very tense in such an awkward reveal of her other half. She had never had to do this before, start as Lor and bridge her with the fantastical being of the Shadow Healer. It felt strangely exposing, as she was ironically _masking_ her face.

She mused to herself that it must be the fact that everyone expects there to be someone behind the mask, taking it off isn’t as revealing. It’s the exposition of a lowly, mortal human as something much greater that usually takes people by great surprise.

Foggy was now pointing at the Shadow Healer, mouth agape. “You. You’re—“

Lor nodded. “Yeah.”

Foggy then turned his finger down to his sitting friend. “Since when do you do team-ups?”

Matt smiled, ready to explain that yes, he did do team-ups. He had just been in one against the Hand. But as his mind went through the roster, his whole body paused at the thought of the one who wasn’t able to walk away.

_Elektra._

_So, what if…What if…from now on, if…if we make it…wherever you run, I…I run with you?_

He couldn’t think about that right now. So he shut down that comment and settled for a different one, though he could somehow imagine the Shadow Healer knowing the shift in mood about him.

“I do team-ups, Foggy,” voice trying to sound convincing.

Foggy snorted. “You don’t play well with others, Matt.”

“I…I do too.”

Foggy pointed a comical finger at his business partner. “That was the weakest defense I have ever heard, councilor. Take our beloved Shadow Healer,” he argued, gesturing to the young lady beside him, “Huge fan, by the way. Member of all your fanbases and websites. But seriously. She’s with the X-Men. A _team_. Which means she’s a team _player_. You my, friend, are not on a team and are thus not a team-player.”

Matt gave a dry laugh, ducking his head in thanks as Claire wrapped a throw blanket around him. “Foggy, I’m not a mutant. I don’t think the X-Men would take me on.”

Foggy gave a flick of his hand. “Please. Your senses are freaky enough to pass for a mutie,” turning quickly to the mutant vigilante beside him, “No offense.”

Lorelei smiled and shook her head. “None taken.”

Claire perked up from snaking the bell of her stethoscope underneath the blanket to Matt’s chest, doing it now simply from habit rather than need. “Wait, you’re with the X-Men now?” she asked, while giving a fond back-hand to the vigilante’s exposed shoulder as he tried to wriggle away.

Foggy sighed heavily, only to elicit an even larger smile from his legal partner. “Yes, she’s been a member for like 1 month and a half now, Claire, keep up.”

The former Metro General nurse through her hands up in playful surrender.

The unmasked Daredevil leaned over to the masked Shadow Healer. “Told you he was a fan.”

Foggy Nelson’s smile and eyes grew twice in size. “Wait, you guys talk about me?” he all but squealed, Matt eliciting a sharp hiss, hands reaching up to simply stall in the air, drawn between covering his ears or rubbing away his new headache. Foggy winced and apologized, Lorelei still giggling at the two lawyers. 

She turned to Foggy as she sat wearily back down on the couch, letting her suit and mask dissipate. “Matt and I’ve known each other for years now. He always talks about you.”

“We spar on Tuesdays,” Matt added, noting curiously how Claire still continued to busy herself with taking his vitals, noting how relaxed and casual her body appeared in the presence of the second vigilante.

“Wait, so are you _actually_ interested in the law?” Foggy asked.

Lorelei shook her head. “Sorry, not really. I’m actually here doing some small recon for the X-Men. Matt offered his assistance.”

Foggy turned excitedly towards his oldest friend. “Oh my gosh, Matty you _are_ working with other people! They grow up so fast,” he said with fake sentimentality, swiping at an invisible tear.

Matt rolled his eyes, Claire let out another fierce snort, and Lorelei balked out a laugh.


End file.
